


Superhuman (Together, We're Stronger)

by DuchessDeeDee



Series: 1, 2, 3 [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Ankle Cuffs, BOSS NCT, Canon Compliant, China Line - Freeform, Electricity manipulation, Empathy, Fire Powers, Fluff, Ice Powers, Invisibility, Luck related powers, M/M, Mark's glasses, Metal Powers, NCT in America, Power regulators, Ships are really lowkey, Some crazy stuff is gonna happen, Superspeed, The seventh sense, They make a brief appearance - Freeform, Traits!Universe, WayV - Freeform, force fields, lots of emotions in general, might be another boss battle, superhuman nct, thus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2020-02-16 20:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18698485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuchessDeeDee/pseuds/DuchessDeeDee
Summary: Jungwoo glances over at them, most likely feeling their distress. He turns to the managers with a frown. “What about the regulator cuffs?”“Wait, are we going to have to wear those?” Doyoung asks, catching onto Jungwoo’s train of thought. “I read that they really mess with your brain processing, especially this late in life. Cutting off your Trait is supposedly like taking out part of your nervous system.”“It’s only a fitting,” one of the managers says soothingly. “They most likely won’t make any of you wear them. It’s just a legal requirement for anyone to go into the United States.”“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Taeyong says in his leader voice, but Mark can see him send a concerned glance at Jaehyun. “It’s just a fitting, right?”Donghyuck sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just a fitting.”ORWhat with the excitement of the foiled bank robbery and Mark finally revealing his Trait to his friends, he sort of forgets about America. It comes as a surprise, then, when a month later the managers sit down 127 and tell them that the America trip has been rescheduled to later that month.





	1. Four to Five Years

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up y'all, this starts before the events of Counting Footsteps. Enjoy!
> 
> Warnings in the end notes.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters and plot are works of fiction. In no way, shape, or form is this based off of or reflective of the real people of NCT.

 

Contrary to popular belief, Mark loves being in three sub groups. Sure, it’s a lot of work and he never really sleeps anymore, but being able to showcase three different styles is freeing. He gets to hang around people of all different ages and backgrounds and experience everything he couldn’t as a trainee. He’s the oldest, youngest, and somewhere in between.

 

Of course, that also means he’s juggling three different schedules. He crashes at a different dorm every night, and sometimes decides on an hour nap in a practice room before using the building’s bathroom to freshen up for the next day. Sometimes Taeyong stumbles in after him, looking similarly sleep deprived and declaring that what the dietician doesn’t know won’t hurt him and drags Mark out for donuts.

 

So, yes. Mark loves everything about what he does and is proud of it, no matter how much Donghyuck teases him about his enthusiasm. He loves being in Dream, in U, and in 127.

 

The only problem was the greeting. It was simple enough. “To the world, we are NCT 127.” Not that big of a variation from the other three chants. It just caused a bit of an issue.

 

“To the world, we are NCT 12-guys, where did Mark go?”

 

“-are NCT 1-again? Mark, you’re a dancer, how are you so clumsy?”

 

Was Mark pretending to trip every time they said the greeting? Yes. Was it suspicious? Very. Thankfully, Taeyong has yet to call him out on it.

 

The truth is that Mark can’t count.

 

Ok, so, he knows how to count. Obviously. He learned in elementary school like everyone else. It's just, he can't  _count_. Because every time he does he turns invisible. And he hasn’t told anyone. Because his Trait was the kind that people gave wary looks and avoided at all costs.

 

At first, he’d tried to count anyways. The result was a panicked end to their first ever recording session as everyone tried to figure out where Mark had gone. That was the second time he used his powers. He didn’t use them again.

 

Instead, he mouths the name when it’s loud enough for him to get away with it, and feigns tripping over something or sneezing or coughing or whatever is not counting when it would be obvious his voice was not part of the group’s clamber.

 

Donghyuck is, naturally, the only one who actually gives it no thought. He and Mark have shared a dorm many times before and he knows how lax Mark’s body control is in the mornings. He’s seen Mark trip over air before. So, he merely uses the incidents as ammunition.

 

“Hey, remember the time we were at Inkigayo and you fell flat on your face in front of all of the SJ Sunbaenim?”

 

“I bet Mark would love to help you start a garden, Jeno. He sure spends enough time kissing the ground.”

 

Mark rolls his eyes and holds back a snicker because they are kinda funny if he thinks about it, but also tackles Donghyuck for revenge because they were some of his most embarrassing moments.

 

The rest of them leave it alone for the most part, but Mark has started having to avoid standing next to Yuta since the elder hooks an arm around his shoulder to stop him from ‘falling’. It’s nice, and normally Mark would have appreciated it. But considering the circumstances, he does his best to throw Sicheng in his place. Ten had pulled him aside the other day to ask if he wanted some balance lessons because, “even I tripped over myself when going through puberty.” Mark had had to meekly decline, instead taking up the face mask session Ten has been pestering him about. It’s one of the most relaxing afternoons he’s ever had. But that’s besides the point. The point is that Mark is as unsubtle as Chenle’s animal friends and it’s probably going to cause him grief in the future. But in the end, it’s not even Taeyong who confronts him.

 

“Sup, Mark,” Jaehyun says, flopping down on the bed. Mark loves that Jaehyun makes the time to seek him out just to speak English because he knows how much Mark misses it. Mark thinks Jaehyun must miss it, too.

 

“Yo, bro,” Mark replies. He fiddles with the DS Donghyuck has loaned him, trying to figure out why Coco won’t listen to him. It’s irritating, but surprisingly engaging.

 

“I heard that you’ve caught a case of the clumsies, dude,” Jaehyun starts casually. “You growing again?”

 

Mark forces his jaw to relax and shrugs. “Maybe. I have to reach Johnny's height eventually, right?”

 

Jaehyun snorts, scooting over to peer at Mark’s screen. “Why don’t you just reach my height and call it even. Johnny and Yukhei are way taller than any of us will ever be. Except maybe Jisung.”

 

“Jisung’s already too tall,” Mark complains, handing the DS over to Jaehyun when he makes grabby hands. He instantly exits the field Mark was on and flips through the map before settling on the Rainbow Ravine. Clearly, he’s played this before.

 

“I think all of you are too tall,” Jaehyun says. “I can still remember when you were short enough for me to lean my elbows on. Good ol’ days.”

 

“You’re hardly older than me,” Mark complains. “Stop making it sounds like I’m a baby.”

 

“You are a baby,” Jaehyun mutters, laughing when Mark whines and slaps his arm. “Sorry, sorry. Anyways, that was all I came to ask. No growing pains or anything?”

 

Mark shakes his head because as much as that explanation would make things easier, he’s a terrible liar. Jaehyun eyes him for a second longer, then shrugs and rolls over to show Mark the benefits of feeding Coco milk bones as compared to dog food.

 

 

 

There is a shriek at some unholy hour of the morning, then several more, one of which is definitely Chenle’s. Mark didn’t remember him coming over. Maybe Lucas had grabbed him.

 

In any case, Mark groans, rolling over and clutching his pillow over his ears. Donghyuck lets out a similar sentiment from across the room, and then the door of their room is slammed open.

 

“Markeu!”

 

That is definitely Chenle. Mark groans, sticking his head out from under the pillow to blink at the fuzzy group in the doorway. “Wazzit?”

 

His glasses are shoved onto his nose and Mark reels back, carefully placing the frames on his face. Now that he can actually see the group in their doorway, Mark is even more wary.

 

“Taeyong hyung? What’s going on?” Donghyuck slowly rises from the blankets to stare at them blearily. Mark can relate.

 

“Sorry for waking you,” Taeyong says apologetically, grabbing the back of Chenle’s shirt and depositing him next to Sicheng, Renjun, and Yangyang. Yukhei and Kun peak over his shoulder moments later, the younger sending them a little wave. Dejun and Hendrey peer under their arms a moment later, most likely looking forward to the newest dorm drama. Mark had forgotten Wednesday nights were China line nights.

 

“S’okay,” Mark mutters in English before remembering to switch to Korean. Sleep really messes with his brain. “Is, uh, everything alright?”

 

Chenle is bouncing in place, looking like he’s about to burst in excitement. Renjun rolls his eyes. “You guys are going to America.”

 

It takes a moment for that to register. “What?”

 

“You guys are going to America~” Chenle repeats, dancing around the room before flopping on Donghyuck. Donghyuck merely opens his blanket bundle to let Chenle in before cocooning the pair of them.

 

“Wait, why? Promotions aren’t even for another few months. We’re still finishing up Boss promotions,” Mark points out.

 

Taeyong nods, leaning against the doorframe. “We’re not scheduled to go until after we finish, but they just let me know. 127 is going to attend a few talk shows and maybe an awards show if we can squeeze it in. They want to take advantage of our popularity from the comeback and try to get more English fans.”

 

“Huh,” Donghyuck says, and falls asleep on Chenle’s shoulder. The younger giggles, maneuvering them so that they’re snuggled against Donghyuck’s mountain of pillows.

 

Mark’s brain is buzzing, and it takes a moment before he realizes why he’s starting to feel panicked. His eyes shoot up to Taeyong. “Does Johnny know?”

 

“Ah, not yet?” Taeyong says, sounding taken aback.

 

Mark lurches out of bed, snagging a hoodie and shoving his feet into his slippers. His breathing is coming a little heavy, and he imagines it will be even worse for Johnny.

 

Sicheng looks concerned, handing Mark his phone when he can’t find it. “Are you ok?”

 

“M’fine,” Mark says, hands shaking. “Yukhei, can you take me to Johnny?”

 

Yukhei looks worried. Mark should be handling this better, but he’s having flashbacks and it’s 3 in the morning. It’s a bad combination. “Ok?”

 

Mark grabs Yukhei’s arm before anyone can protest and they disappear with a pop, only to reappear in the 127 living room. Mark stumbles, murmuring a quiet thank you to Yukhei before slipping through Johnny’s door.

 

“Hyung,” Mark whispers. Taeyong’s bed is still made, so Mark supposes he had been at the U dorm when he got the news. His hands won’t stop shaking.

 

Johnny groans, flicking on the light. “Mark?”

 

“Johnny hyung,” Mark repeats. His throat feels like it’s closing up and he can’t seem to say anything else.

 

Johnny sits bolt upright, taking in Mark’s bed head and twitching fingers. He’s up in an instant, gently guiding the younger to sit on the bed. “Hey, hey Mark. It’s ok. What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

 

Mark takes a deep breath, and then another. “Hyung. Hyung, they’re sending us to America.”

 

Mark hears Johnny suck in a deep breath, collapsing on the bed next to Mark. They’re silent, Mark grabbing Johnny’s hand, finding comfort in the familiar feeling of his many rings. He keeps his eyes on the door, feeling Johnny’s deep breaths as he attempts to keep calm.

 

“It-it’s going to be fine,” Johnny finally exhales, gripping Mark’s hand tightly.

 

“Are they going to cuff us?” Mark whispers. There’s a heavy, crushing feeling in the air.

 

Johnny doesn’t say anything, instead wrapping Mark in a hug. Neither of them sleep that night.

 

 ~.~

 

What with the excitement of the foiled bank robbery and Mark finally revealing his Trait to his friends, he sort of forgets about America. After all, they, as well of the rest of SM, have been put on hiatus until building security has been upgraded and it’s members deemed fit to continue. It comes as a surprise, then, when a month later the managers sit down 127 and tell them that the America trip has been rescheduled to later that month.

 

Johnny seems just as startled as Mark, exchanged panicked glances with him.

 

Jungwoo glances over at them, most likely feeling their distress. He turns to the managers with a frown. “What about the regulator cuffs?”

 

“Wait, are we going to have to wear those?” Doyoung asks, catching onto Jungwoo’s train of thought. “I read that they really mess with your brain processing, especially this late in life. Cutting off your Trait is supposedly like taking out part of your nervous system.”

 

“It’s only a fitting,” one of the managers says soothingly. “They most likely won’t make any of you wear them. It’s just a legal requirement for anyone to go into the United States.”

 

Jaehyun sighs. “They’ll probably assess us when we get there. Or before, I guess, if they’re really efficient. I doubt they’ll just let us waltz in and out. They’re really paranoid about security, you know? Even I had to wear one, and I was just an exchange student.”

 

Mark blinks. For all he and Johnny had bonded about their shared life experience, he had forgotten that Jaehyun had lived there for all of four (to five) years. That certainly explained his hesitancy in revealing his Trait.

 

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Taeyong says in his leader voice, but Mark can see him send a concerned glance at Jaehyun. “It’s just a fitting, right?”

 

“Right,” the manager agrees. “Just a fitting.”

 

Donghyuck sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just a fitting.”

 

 

 

The fitting goes horribly.

 

Taeyong decides that he should go first, being the leader, and passes out moments after the cuffers snap the cuff around his ankle.

 

Johnny rips the thing to shreds, and Doyoung circles them in a force field until the managers get the cuffers to leave the room. Even then, Doyoung refuses to let them in until Taeyong wakes up again. Jaehyun’s fingers are sparking violently, and Yuta has to wrap himself around Sicheng to melt the ice curling around his sleeves. Jungwoo goes to meditate in the corner, expression dark as he takes in deep breaths. Taeil has to put his four leaf clover back in his wallet before he crushes it.

 

Needless to say, the managers decide to fit Johnny last.

 

Taeyong’s anklet is scrapped since, as it turns out, his Trait has become an integrated part of his bodily function. Taking it away was similar to stopping his heart. When the doctor hesitantly tells them this, it rouses another round of angry shouting from the members and threats to sue before the managers manage to calm them down. Taeyong refuses to leave after that, sticking close to Johnny in order to keep him from tearing apart the rest of the anklets lined neatly on the table. Unfortunately for them, the fitting cuffs are metal since Korea has no reason to get the new synthestic ones.

 

The other members warily let the cuffers fit them, thankfully nothing as dramatic happening when the anklets are snapped on and adjusted. They have to redo Jaehyun’s when he shorts it out. Jungwoo holds his breath the entire time, eyes flitting from face to face when his is fitted. Mark guesses it’s probably disconcerting to know how everyone’s feeling around you to suddenly nothing. Doyoung flat out glowers at them the whole time they fit him, and Sicheng takes a similar stance. Yuta has to grip Sicheng’s hand when they fit him, sucking in a deep breath when his Trait is cut off. Of all of them, besides Taeyong and Jungwoo, Yuta uses his Trait the most often in real life. He heats up the other members coffee when they cool or warms the practice rooms in the morning. As such, he’s one of the most connected and Mark is surprised he doesn’t pass out like Taeyong.

 

Since Donghyuck and Taeil are both in the luck class, they don’t bother fitting them. Traits from the luck class are considered beneficial to society and cuffs for them have long since been outlawed. And then it’s Mark turn.

 

Donghyuck glowers at them, an arm circled protectively around Mark’s shoulders. Mark clutches the armrest of his chair, his heart monitor speeding up.

 

“It’ll be just fine,” one of the cuffers says soothingly, guiltily approaching him with the anklet.

 

Mark clutches Donghyuck’s arm, then the cuff snaps around his ankle. His hearing becomes fuzzy and he has to blink a few times before his vision comes into focus. The doctor is saying something, his mouth moving, but Mark can only stare at him blankly until his hearing slowly comes back.

 

“-might be a good idea.  Try and wear cotton socks, avoid polyester, and remember to apply the treatment cream around the area morning and night. Your skin might be especially susceptible to chaffing since you had one when you were younger. And-“

 

It’s the same spiel he’d given to the other members and Mark takes the moment to zone out, a distinct lack of _something_ echoing throughout his body. When he looks at his hand, it seems to flicker, briefly disappearing from sight. He blinks again, and it’s back to normal.

 

“Are you ok?”

 

Mark looks up, seeing the concerned glances of the others. The doctor is fiddling with the various machinery, and the cuffer is checking the anklet, tape measure in one hand.

 

Mark opens his mouth, then closes it again when nothing comes out. It takes him a few tries to get out a strained, “I’m fine.”

 

His voice sounds a little echo-y, and he clears his throat again. Donghyuck is rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder and Johnny looks like he’s seconds away from ripping Mark’s anklet to shreds.

 

Mark zones out as the cuffer takes the final measurements, consulting with the doctor before finally unclipping it. Mark lets out an involuntary hiss as his whole body jolts. It feels like he’s settling back into his skin, like two puzzle pieces have been put back together. Donghyuck has to help him wobble over to an armchair in the corner, where he collapses.

 

When they finally fit Johnny, he’s uncharacteristically stoic. He nods when they ask if they can hook him up to the monitoring machines, staring straight at Taeyong the whole time. Taeyong is miming taking deep breaths, which Johnny hesitantly follows. He grips Taeil’s outstretched hand, studiously avoiding looking at the cuff they snap on his leg. Mark already knows it’s going to be the worst with him since they have to cut off any and every connection he has with his Trait, even though these days cuffs are made of synthetic material.

 

Everything seems to go fine. The cuffers are, bless them, quick about taking measurements, calling out numbers that are entered into the system. The various machines Johnny is hooked up to display his vital signs, which remain steady, and even Taeil seems to relax.

 

Which is, of course, when Johnny’s heart stops.

 

Donghyuck and Jungwoo both collapse, most likely from the sudden influx of warnings and emotion from their respective Traits. Mark is barely able to snag the back of Donghyuck’s jacket so that he falls into his lap rather than the ground. Jungwoo hits the floor, gasping in synch with Johnny’s.

 

The doctor is hurriedly trying to unfasten the cuff, but is pushed aside by Jaehyun, Doyoung, and Taeyong. Doyoung creates a barrier between Johnny’s leg and the cuff and Taeyong vibrates his hand through the metal, sending pieces flying in all directions. Johnny’s heart monitor continues to flatline, and Jaehyung puts a hand on his chest. Taeil barely manages to let go before Jaehyun’s hand crackles with electricity and Johnny’s heart monitor shorts out.

 

Johnny sits up with a gasp, hand clutching his chest. Taeil scrambles back to his side, placing a hand on his arm and muttering to himself, most likely doing his best to direct his luck at Johnny. Sicheng and Yuta both rush to Jungwoo’s side and help him sit up, speaking in low voices.

 

Donghyuck groans, clutching his head. Mark manages to grab the ice pack Taeyong had thrown aside and presses it to Donghyuck’s forehead, familiar with the horrible headaches that hit him after particularly strong premonitions.

 

Doyoung seems to be having particularly strong words with the head doctor in the corner, spewing medical jargon Mark doesn’t understand. Taeyong is busy motherhening Johnny, while Jaehyun and the managers are talking in rapid whispers.

 

Donghyuck just groans, resting his head against Mark’s shoulder. “Is it over?”

 

  ~.~

 

They do one last broadcast before the trip.

 

It’s somewhat tense what with the fitting a few weeks previous and the group’s trepidation of going overseas. Johnny isn’t there and Yuta manages to make a joke about him oversleeping that finally pulls a laugh out of Taeyong, who has been otherwise straight faced. Jaehyun pounces on the opportunity and makes several comical impersonations that has him falling out of the chair in hysterics. When they go to do the greeting, Mark exchanges looks with Taeyong, who realizes the significance. 

 

The others look confused when Mark disappears at the end of the greeting, and it takes Yuta a full 10 seconds to realize what happened before he bursts out laughing with the rest of them. That just makes them all laugh harder, and Doyoung practically cries when Mark reappears with a bemused expression, clutching his stomach. 

 

As it’s approaching the end of fall, Sicheng gets free reign to ice the windows and make snow fall from the ceiling. He and Donghyuck make a snowman in the corner while Jungwoo disappears on the floor to make snow angels. Doyoung joins him, and then the whole thing is a mess, as per usual. It makes Mark relax, pelting mini snowballs at the back of Taeil’s head because he keeps stealing his fruit loops in the morning.

 

While they’re broadcasting, Johnny is getting one last checkup before they leave. They had had to switch his cuff to a lower grade blocker after the first fitting. Thankfully, this one seems to do ok with him, and there’s special medical notes added to his file so Mark doesn’t think they’ll up the power again. On the other hand, they now have a 24/7 ‘bodyguard’ that will follow them all around America. Yuta and Johnny bet he’s secretly from the FBI, and Taeyong pretends he doesn’t see the money changing hands.

 

No matter how they try to make light of the situation, they know he’s going to be there to keep watch on them. Johnny, in particular, is the subject of observation since his voltage is lowered, but Taeyong and Jaehyun are also high priority. The representatives from the American Traits branch had finally gotten back to them the week previous to inform them that the only ones required to wear the anklets were Johnny, Yuta, Jaehyun, and Mark. Mark is unsurprised, but his heart still sinks when he thinks of the suffocating feeling of his Trait being ripped away from him.

 

“-about going to New York?” Taeyong says, drawing doodles on the iced window panes.

 

It takes Mark a second to recognize the question is aimed at him. “Yooooo NY!”

 

“NY track?” Sicheng whispers to Yuta, who slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle his snickers.

 

“We can’t wait to see you guys! I know these guys can’t wait to meet our NCTizens.”

 

“New York Cheesecake!” Sicheng cheers and Yuta loses it, rolling in the snow and laughing hysterically.

 

Jaehyun sneezes, rousing a round of chorused “bless me, achoooooo”. Taeyong sighs, disappearing in the next room and reappearing with a mountain of blankets. Dongyong snags one and wraps Jungwoo, whose nose has been turning red, in a burrito blanket.  Donghyuck finally collapses on the chair next to him, resting his head on Taeil’s shoulder. The older absently wraps an arm around him, grabbing one of the blankets to throw over them.

 

Mark snuggles into the blanket and accepts a takeout cup of hot chocolate the managers just ‘happened’ to have. It’s delicious and warm, and Sicheng makes little snowflakes flutter over their heads while Yuta becomes their personal space heater. If he had this, Mark decided, he could survive a few weeks with a cuff.

 

  ~.~

 

Mark has a total of four nervous breakdowns the week leading up to their American trip. Two in the bathroom between rehearsals, one late at night after everyone had gone back the dorm and Mark was still practicing, and one between the dairy aisle and the snacks aisle at the convenience store. They were quick and panicked. Mark, however, counted, and no one was the wiser.

 

Jungwoo seemed to be in a constant state of worry, fussing especially over the four of them being cuffed. Mark has no doubt Jungwoo is dealing with a constant influx of haywire emotions and tries his best to think happy thoughts whenever he’s near. Johnny isn’t allowed to practice until the week preceding their travel, since the company wants to make sure he was back to full health after _his heart stopped_ why would they let them _cuff Johnny again_ -

 

Sicheng clasps a hand on his shoulder and Mark looks up apologetically. “What? Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

 

“It’s ok,” Sicheng shrugs. “We have a ten minute break. I just wanted to make sure you knew since you seemed,” Sicheng makes a loopy gesture with his hands.

 

“Maaaark, come on, let’s go to the vending machine, Johnny hyung’s buying,” Donghyuck says impatiently, snagging Mark and Sicheng’s arms and dragging them along.

 

The rest of their rehearsal is just an overview of what songs they’d be doing at what news stations, and soon they were being herded by Taeil and Taeyong back to the dorm to finish packing. To the surprise of absolutely no one, Taeyong, Taeil, and Doyoung were already packed. The rest of them fight a vicious battle of rock-paper-scissors, the short version to be fair to Mark, to see who would claim whose help.

 

Jaehyun cheers when he comes out in first, snagging Taeyong and dragging him away to help him decide what to wear to the airport. Johnny wins next, claiming Taeil as his victim, while Jungwoo has Doyoung help him choose which accessories were necessary and which would be left behind. Yuta and Sicheng decide to join forces in what would probably be a mess of a suitcase, leaving Mark and Donghyuck to duke it out over which one of them would help the other first.

 

Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck wins, and spends an entire hour agonizing over the white hat or the red hat. Mark ends up grabbing one of them and chucking it in the suitcase so the pair can hurriedly shove clothes into Mark’s since it’s already 3 am. Doyoung comes in half past and collapses on the bed silently, hair flopping in his face. Mark and Donghyuck snicker and take a picture for future blackmail before passing out themselves.

 

 

 

As per usual, they nearly miss the plane. They have to turn the car back twice, once because Jaehyun forgot his phone, and another when it became clear that the plane tickets were not in the manager’s bag. Taeyong offers to run back for both items and is turned down unanimously. He himself is treated nearly as fragile as Johnny, what with his passing out, and none of them are keen on Taeyong accidentally overextending himself.

 

They still do their best to look flawless and all but collapse into their seats once out of the view of the cameras. Taeyong passes Mark and Jaehyun’s seat on his way to stow his luggage and ruffles his hair. Mark can see the concern in his expression and smiles brightly, hoping to dispel at least some of it. Taeyong coos and pinches his cheeks like the over affectionate mother hen he is, and Mark snickers when he realizes he and Jaehyun had made the same expression.

 

The plane takes off, and somehow eighteen hours fly by. They land, greet the press and the screaming crowd and disappear into customs. Since cuffing is somewhat of an invasion of privacy, there are separate rooms for each person. The ten of them stand there silently, unwilling to step behind the depressing grey doors.

 

“Well, I guess I’m going first,” Yuta finally says, sauntering into the room. Mark figures he isn’t the only one to notice his trembling fingers, especially when Jungwoo grabs Sicheng’s hand in his own.

 

Yuta comes out paler but still smiling, while Jaehyun looks unaffected going in and coming back out. His only give is the twitching of his right eye, which he hides by burying his head in Taeyong’s shoulder. Johnny is taken to a room a little to the right since his cuff is altered, and Mark takes a deep breath before pushing open the door.

 

The women is kind enough, chattering about some international incident or another as she double checks the cuff settings and kneels down to cuff Mark’s leg.

 

“It’s a shame they still do this here,” the woman hums. “Back home, a talent such as yours would have been lauded. Certainly such a Trait would be considered valuable since we are primarily hunters.”

 

Mark blinks, then notices the thick metal encasing the woman’s own ankle and feels a surge of sympathy. “Oh. Are you, uh, not from here?”

 

“I’m from Finland,” the woman says kindly. “Wouldn’t expect hunters there, would you? But we get along well enough for such a small village. My sons a big fan of your music, you know?”

 

“Oh, really? Tell him I said hello,” Mark says. He feels a surge of pride and accomplishment that they had come so far that their music was being heard internationally.

 

“That would certainly make his day. He admires your bravery, you know? Heard about that unfortunate event at your company. Such brave children. I hope your families are proud of you,” the woman says.

 

“I do my best,” Mark replies. It takes him a second to notice the cuff humming as the woman activates it and it takes everything in him not to spring away from it.

 

The woman notices and pulls it away, making a soothing noise. “It’s ok, dear. I know it hurts. It’s just a few weeks, and before you know it you’ll be back home and free to use your Trait as much as you please.”

 

Mark takes another deep breath, stills his leg.

 

“That’s it, just look at me. That’s good. Everything will be ok. Why don’t I tell you about the time my youngest and eldest decided to run away to join a penguin colony?”

 

Mark breaths and looks into her eyes and steadfastly ignores the bits of cold metal as it closes around his leg. Things start blurring together, the story, the dizziness, and the lack of something. The woman finally stands up, calibration completed.

 

“All done, dear. That wasn’t so bad now, was it? Remember, if anything starts feeling off, contact the nearest Trait agency immediately. No need to suffer through it, hun, this isn’t supposed to hurt you. Especially since you’re international visitors. Lollipop?”

 

Mark takes the sucker, clenches and unclenches it in his hand to remind himself that he’s real and here and solid. “Thank you.”

 

“Ah, it’s no issue, I wish I didn’t have to do it at all,” the woman says ruefully, waving her hand dismissively. “Why, I refuse to bring my own children here while they have such measures in place. They’re 14, 12, and 9, you know. Hardly done growing into their Traits yet.”

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s yours?” Mark asks. “You have a really heavy duty cuff.”

 

“Oh, that,” the woman says. “Well, they’d hardly want an unchecked mind reader in their midst. Certainly not a foreign one at that. I wouldn’t work here except for the reason that my mother lives here. She’s getting old and refuses to move, so I came to take care of her. Now I get to tell her how I met Georgie’s favorite band.”

 

“I hope I get to meet him one day,” Mark says and slowly rises to his feet. His legs are slightly sturdier underneath him, and he knows Donghyuck will let him lean against him all the way to the car if needed. He’ll be fine.

 

As expected, Donghyuck crowds him the moment he comes back out while Mark does his best to seem unaffected. It takes another half hour for Johnny to come back out, during which Mark is mothered within an inch of his life, but he’s not alone. Secret agent guy is back and his perpetual downturned eyebrows have returned full force. Money changes hands again, and this time Taeyong smacks the back of Yuta’s head with a huff.

 

“Right,” the manager says to break the tension. “This is Dave, and he’ll be, ah, staying with us for the next few weeks. Please treat him with respect and courtesy.”

 

Johnny thankfully looks no worse for wear, but his complexion is certainly paler than it was earlier. Taeyong finally shifts his mothering to a new target while Jaehyun follows like a lost puppy. Mark randomly wonders if he’s made any more progress on Donghyuck’s game than Donghyuck, since the younger has been complaining about Jaehyun’s sudden obsession with it. It’s a fair assumption, given that his behavior these days is akin to a puppy.

 

When they head back out, it’s Jungwoo and Doyoung who lead them, reporters and fans parting like the Red Sea before them. Their matching black trench coats are certainly striking and Mark suddenly wonders if they had been chosen for more than just looks. The rest of them are left alone and unbothered in favor of the couples outfits the pair support, and there’s a sudden burst of warmth in Mark’s heart that beats back the icy chill that’s been spreading since the cuff snapped shut.

 

The hotel is great, but Mark is too tired to appreciate it. Most of their hotel V-live is spent with Mark leaning against whoever’s closest to him and trying not to fall asleep. Johnny and Jaehyun dominate the conversation, with a few contributions from Yuta, who’s humor never seems to rest, and Doyoung, whose English was impressive for just a year of lessons. Mark says a few things here and there, but spends a large chunk of it drawing stick figures on a hotel pad of paper with Sicheng and Taeil. Taeil seems determined to draw a dinosaur and is constantly thwarted by Sicheng’s ninja doodles. Taeyong and Donghyuck are throwing insults and lettuce at each other in the corner for some reason, while Jungwoo gets caught in the crossfire.

 

It’s a typical night. Would be, if it weren’t for the shiny metal sticking out the top of Jaehyun’s sock, the prick of _unrightness_ at the back of Mark’s neck. He shrugs it off and does his best to guess letters correctly since Taeil is clearly favoring Sicheng, though how one could do that with hangman was anyone’s guess.

 

 

 

Breathing, Mark decides, sucks. Who needs to breath? What’s the point when your lungs don’t want to cooperate? Mark has always considered himself to have strong lungs, and not once in his life was he ever diagnosed with asthma. Why, then, is breathing so difficult now when he’s just sleeping?

 

They’ve been here for about a week, and he and Johnny are once again sharing a room. The elder seems to be in much higher spirits than Mark had anticipated. It probably has to do with the fact that he can still bend a spoon with his mind, if not much else. Bodyguard-FBI-secret-agent-Dave is in the hotel room across the hall, thankfully leaving them alone when they stayed in.

 

Taking a deep breath, Mark closes his eyes, wishing for sleep to take him. He seems to be doing a lot worse with the cuff than he remembered. Every breath hurts, although that could just be because of the adjustment period. The emptiness seems to keep growing, only thwarted when he is around the other members.

 

In any case, Mark knows Yuta has it worse. They have to turn on all the space heaters and Taeil and Sicheng have been wrapped around him since they got to the hotel. Mark suspects it’s because Yuta’s Trait is at least partially integrated in his body temperature. Without it, his temperature keeps randomly dropping. They’re lucky they came in the summer when the sun can at least supply some warmth.

 

Jaehyun seems to be the stablest out of all of them, if not a little more snappy. Taeyong keeps sneaking him some of his candies that he’d hidden within the depths of his luggage, a treasure that few of them ever receive (Taeyong is extremely protective of his sweets). The other day, Donghyuck even relinquished his DS for an entire night to the elder. Doyoung had been so proud he’d made them all a cooked meal using several packages of cup ramen and other ingredients he managed to sweet talk the hotel kitchen staff into giving them.

 

It feels like he’s just drifted off when his alarm goes off. Mark mutes it and groans into his pillow. Johnny hisses in sympathy, but stumbles out of bed.

 

Donghyuck pokes fun at his glasses and eye bags when Mark finally manages to make it to the car, hoodie pulled over his messy hair.

 

“Inkigayo flashbacks,” Donghyuck sings, laughing and dodging as Mark swipes at him.

 

“I think he stole my gummy bears,” Taeyong mutters, climbing into the other van behind Sicheng and Yuta. “He has too much energy.”

 

Doyoung is already passed out against the window and Mark mirrors him. He wakes up to snickering and shushing and realizes at some point his head had ended up on Doyoung’s shoulder.

 

“So cute,” someone coos. It sounds an awful lot like Donghyuck and Mark is going to get him for that at some point. When he’s less tired.

 

“Let him sleep a little longer,” Johnny says. “I heard him rustling about last night. I don’t think he got much sleep.”

 

“He’s not feeling very good,” Jungwoo inputs, and they all fall silent.

 

Mark feels Doyoung shift. “Is it the cuff?”

 

“Probably,” Johnny says. “He had one for so long when he was younger, his body probably knows to react violently to its presence.”

 

“Can I help?” Donghyuck asks.

 

Doyoung wraps an arm around Mark’s shoulders. “Just stay close to him, and the other three. Hopefully you and Taeil can help negate the worst of it.”

 

When they arrive at the recording studio, Doyoung gently nudges Mark. He pretends to wake up from a restful nap, when the reality is he’s probably only slept for five minutes.

 

As they get out of the van, there’s a scary moment where Mark’s hand seems to go _through_ the chair. He quickly pulls it back, heart beating rapidly. It looks solid, and he feels a little silly when he pokes it and nothing happens.

 

“Come on, Mark,” Doyoung calls from the top of the steps, and Mark hurries to follow.

 

 

 

It happens again. The host greets them, makes a few opening cracks that Mark normally would have commented on, but he’s more preoccupied with turning his shaking hands over in his lap. Like the chair, his hands seem to go through the table when he tries to place them on it.

 

Pushing it to the back of his mind, Mark throws himself into the conversation. He says the greeting, and feels very strange when he manages to say the whole thing through without disappearing. Jungwoo is staring at him and Mark keeps a smile fixed on his face. The host is actually hilarious, but Mark can’t enjoy it as much as he wants to. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, he grabs Donghyuck’s hand, trying to ground himself. Donghyuck interlaces their fingers and Mark calms his breathing. He feels a lot more stable by the time the interview wraps up, laughing at the host’s attempt to jump when his feet don’t even leave the ground.

 

There’s a brief interlude before the next interview where they hurriedly eat takeout. Mark determinedly ignores how his fingers sometimes can’t seem to pick up the sandwich, and then they’re at the next one. They talk, they dance, they make more jokes. Mark should have been having the time of his life. Yuta shifts his feet and Mark sees a flash of silver that has his stomach seizing up.

 

Then it happens.

 

It was only a matter of time before one of the interviews asked, but Mark really wishes it wasn’t now, when he was seconds away from shooting out of his chair and hiding in the bathroom.

 

“So. In Korea, you guys don’t have cuffs, correct?” the interviewer asks.

 

They all blink, and Johnny answers affirmative, looking uncomfortable. The interviewer latches onto him. “Johnny! You’re from America, right?”

 

“I am,” Johnny says, his voice hesitant.

 

“Did you have a cuff?”

 

There’s a gasp from someone in the back of the studio, and Mark agrees. Asking about that is kind of a personal question, and sometimes a stigma. For the interviewer to so blatantly ask that was offensive and invasive in a way most people wouldn’t tolerate. Celebrities have left in the middle of interviews for such questions with little to no backlash.

 

Unfortunately, Johnny is nice. “Well. Before I moved to Korea, I, uh-”

 

“I had one,” Jaehyun interrupts.

 

The interview blinks, shifting her gaze over to Jaehyun. “You did?”

 

“I lived here for a few years,” Jaehyun shrugs nonchalantly, but Mark can see the tension in his shoulders. “It was a bit startling, considering in Korea such things are _outlawed_. I guess it was good experience for now. I’m more or less used to the itching.”

 

“You’re, you’re wearing one now?” The interviewer says slowly, and glances down at his covered ankle. He scoots his chair back subtly, maybe unconsciously, but Mark sees the rest of the members tense.

 

“I am,” Jaehyun confirms. “It’s a shame. My phone dies all the time now and I can’t recharge it for hours.”

 

The producer looks upset, and makes slashing movements at the interviewer. The interview thankfully wraps up quickly after that and the managers usher them out, looking angry. Taeyong seems to be vibrating in his seat once they get into the van, and abruptly switches to the other van to stay with Jaehyun. Johnny takes deep breaths, staring blankly out the window.

 

Mark stares at his hands, which are starting to look less and less solid.  


	2. Got me feeling like a Super

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That doesn’t even make any sense,” Doyoung points out, giving Mark a sympathetic smile. 
> 
> “Your face doesn’t make any sense,” Taeyong says around his straw, leisurely sipping his smoothie. 
> 
> “Well, your face is,” Doyoung wiggles his fingers as he searches for words. Jungwoo stares at him unblinkingly. Mark wonders if he’s waiting for the punchline or just tired like the rest of them. 
> 
> Jaehyun takes pity on him. “Annoying?”
> 
> “Yes, annoying!” Doyoung points at him triumphantly. “Ha! Even Jaehyun admits it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahaha when you thought you were going to be done in 2 chapters but NOPE! We still got another one ahead of us, boys. 
> 
> STREAM NCT DREAM BOOM!

The interview goes viral. It’s expected, but it doesn’t make them any less upset about it. The managers call SM the moment they arrive back at the hotel, the rest of the day’s schedule canceled. Mark can hear them talking hurriedly through the walls, most likely trying to figure out how to keep the station from releasing the video. It was a blatant invasion of privacy, and if they had had more time, Mark wouldn’t have doubted they would have been able to both stop them and sue them. As it is, they’re unable to stop them before the station releases the video. They are, however, in the process of a very lengthy lawsuit. 

 

Since they have a week at most left in the States, they resume the schedule the next day, and Mark can’t help but notice the interviews whose chairs are much farther away than they would have normally been. There are noticeably less fans waiting for them before they enter studios, and the managers and Taeyong forbid them from looking at comments. Taeyong still shares the supportive ones he finds, but Mark can see the bags under his eyes and how much more protective Taeyong seems of all of them. 

 

There is, on the other hand, a host who has a cuff herself and seems unafraid of flashing it with her sundress and sandals. It’s the best interview they have thus far, and Johnny seems to gain some of his confidence back and lowkey flirts. They exchange sock tips and their favorite brands, since Johnny seems more or less done with the situation, anklet in plain view since he decided to wear shorts. FBI Dave sits menacingly in the shadow of the camera. 

 

It’s common news that Jaehyun and Johnny are both wearing cuffs, but Mark and Yuta remain out of the spotlight for the moment being. Mark has no doubt that he’ll be similarly exposed since he has years of classmates and teachers who saw his cuff in Canada. On top of that, it won’t take the fans long to realize that Mark is actually saying the whole greeting. It’s only a matter of whether that information will come to light before or after they leave America. As such, the managers are doing damage control, having all of them wear pants and calf-length socks. Jaehyun and Johnny are more or less given free rein, but there are subtle suggestions from the staff about which pants would look best with which shirt. A large number of their shorts mysteriously disappear. 

 

There’s so much happening that Mark just sort of. Forgets. About the Trait thing. 

 

And the thing is, Mark was planning to tell the managers, or at least Taeyong, about the whole flickering fingers. He was. It was just that he’d found out the same day of the interview scandal and then by the time they’d gotten over most of the drama, there was only a few days left. He seemed to go through less objects, so he thought it was fine. 

 

Until he falls through the floor. 

 

Mark doesn’t know what’s happened until his ears stop ringing and he notices the shouting around him. Sicheng is carefully sitting him up while Yuta disappears out of the room, most likely to call the managers. His knees hurt, as does his arm. That seems to be the worst of it, until a wave of dizziness hits him and Mark closes his eyes. 

 

“-stay awake, come on Mark. Hey, look at me, come on, please-”

 

Mark forces his eyes open, locking gazes with Sicheng. “Huh. When did you get four eyes?”

 

“Mark! Are you ok? What happened?”

 

Mark blinks, and realizes he’s in the bathroom of what he assumes is Yuta, Taeil, and Sicheng’s room. The entire room is covered in a thin layer of frost, most likely due to Sicheng’s panicked state. The mirror is cracked from the temperature change and there’s a snowfall that’s steadily getting heavier. 

 

Mark looks at Sicheng and his concerned expression and lack of suspicion. He didn’t know. They didn’t see him fall through the ceiling. 

 

There’s only three days left. They don’t have time for Mark to be overdramatic. The mirror shatters, small pieces scattering across the floor. Sicheng jumps, finally noticing the snowfall and ending it with a muffled curse. 

 

“I just felt a little dizzy,” Mark says, which is true. “I think I forgot to eat lunch.” This is also true. It’s just not the whole truth.

 

The managers rush in after Yuta and help Mark over to what he assumes is Yuta’s bed, judging by the Pikachu plushie. Sicheng pulls out a sandwich from the mini fridge, unwrapping it and handing it to Mark. He eats it as they talk above his head. Truthfully, he _was_ hungry, and the sandwich makes him feel a million times better.

 

When Mark finishes chewing, he looks up to find them all staring at him.

 

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” Yuta says. He’s wearing a sweater even though the thermostat is cranked up to 78, a thin layer of sweat at his hairline. Mark feels even guiltier that they’re worrying about him when Yuta is in such a state. 

 

“I’m a quiet walker,” Mark says. “You looked like you were napping, so I didn’t want to disturb you. I just needed to borrow your, uh, razor.”

 

“You couldn’t borrow Johnny’s?”

 

Mark scrunches up his nose. “His is weird. It’s got too many buttons.”

 

Sicheng huffs. They all turn to look at him. “What? It does. I don’t understand it.”

 

The managers look relieved. “Well, I’m glad you’re not sick, Mark. But you should be taking better care of yourself. If you need something, like a snack, tell us next time.”

 

“Sorry, hyung,” Mark ducks his head. He feels awful about lying to them, but the alternative (canceling the shows, disappointing the fans, disappointing the _other members_ ) seems much worse. 

 

And to be perfectly honest, Mark doesn’t want to reveal his lack of control over his powers. He’s just gotten over the stage fright of using them around the other members. To regress to the point where he can’t even control them, or worse, have to be sent to a training facility, sounds terrible. He’d much rather fall through every chair he sits in for the rest of his life than miss even a single day with the members. 

 

Sicheng sighs, grabbing an energy drink and setting it on the nightstand beside him. “Drink this. It will make you feel better.”

 

Mark does. He feels a little better, fatigue lessening, the buzzing in his limbs dying down. Yuta shares his blanket with Mark, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Sicheng grabs the tv remote and flicks it on, flopping down next to the pair of them as a show blares on.

 

At some point Taeil comes back and jumps on the bed, resulting in the shrieks of the other three as they’re thrown in the air. They dissolve into a pillow fight, laughing as they fling pillows left and right. The managers sportingly pass Taeil a pillow as Yuta and Sicheng team up on him before leaving. Sicheng shrieks as Taeil activates his Trait, Yuta rolling on the floor laughing when Taeil chases Sicheng around the room. He takes refuge behind Mark and Taeil pouts. Mark shoots him a wink and ducks, giving Taeil free rein. Sicheng's muffled curses of betrayal send Mark to the floor next to Yuta, holding his stomach from laughter. At some point Sicheng gets the upper hand which Mark knows Taeil gave to him becuase he's weak and he jumps at Mark with a war cry. Yuta automatically jumps to Sicheng's aid and Mark laughs, holding his own pillow to protect his face. Taeil sneaks up behind them and manages to wrap the pair in a comforter, sharing a high five with Mark at the victory. Mark only drops his pillow once.

 

~.~

 

Before Mark’s Trait was common knowledge, his clumsiness was legendary. He lost count of the memes and the vines people made of him tripping, and of him ‘tripping’. The Dreamies have a shared google drive between them that they like to whip out at variety shows and whenever Mark annoys them. Yukhei, as an honorary member, also has access. Which is why Mark is surprised when it’s Taeil, of all people, that shares the infamous Inkigayo fall, complete in HD with zoom-in action. The host laughs along with the rest of them, and although there are only two days left, Mark knows this is all he’s going to hear about. 

 

He’s right. 

 

“What‘s Mark’s favorite song?” Johnny asks them at the cafe. 

 

Mark sighs as Donghyuck eagerly sits up. He already knows where this is going. “What?”

 

“ _Trippin’_ Love.” Johnny looks proud of himself. Donghyuk falls out of his chair laughing. Mark steals one of his strawberries in retaliation.

 

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Doyoung points out, giving Mark a sympathetic smile. 

 

“Your face doesn’t make any sense,” Taeyong says around his straw, leisurely sipping his smoothie. 

 

“Well, your face is,” Doyoung wiggles his fingers as he searches for words. Jungwoo stares at him unblinkingly. Mark wonders if he’s waiting for the punchline or just tired like the rest of them. 

 

Jaehyun takes pity on him. “Annoying?”

 

“Yes, annoying!” Doyoung points at him triumphantly. “Ha! Even _Jaehyun_ admits it.”

 

“I thought you were supposed to be on my side,” Taeyong says, clutching his chest dramatically. Taeil takes the chance and steals a sip of Taeyong’s drink. 

 

Taeyong just sits there blankly while Yuta and Sicheng exchange high fives with him, rewarding the elder with a bite of each of their cakes the cafe boasts as ‘World Famous’. Jaehyun pats his shoulder patiently while stealing his own sip.

 

“Hey, don’t you think Dave-ssi is, like, a little creepy?” Donghyuck whispers to Mark, having finally recovered from his laughing fit. Mark follows his gaze to the opposite side of the cafe where FBI Dave sits hunched over, hand curled around his bubble tea like it has somehow personally offended him. 

 

“I mean, he’s probably tired,” Mark whispers back. His cheeks feel a little warm. “He’s been following us everywhere, and the schedule is hectic, even for us. Plus, he doesn’t really seem like a k-pop kind of person and he has to listen to it all day everyday because of us.”

 

Donghyuck scoffs. “Everybody likes k-pop. Some people are just secretive about it. Anyways, he acts like Taeyong hyung is, like, somebody beneath him every time he talks to him. And Taeyong hyung is always polite. How can you scowl at a face like that.” Donghyuck gestures at Taeyong’s pout. 

 

“I don’t think he’s so bad,” Jungwoo pipes up from Donghyuck’s other side. At Mark and Donghyuck’s confused frowns, he elaborates, “He’s always concerned whenever Taeyong hyung talks with him, and he doesn’t like crowds. I think he’s naturally a shy person.”

 

“You always see the best in people, hyung,” Donghyuck says fondly, leaning into the hug Jungwoo offers him. “And you _see_ their emotions. I don’t know how you do it. You and Taeyong hyung are too nice.”

 

“You’re so cute, Hyuck-ah,” Jungwoo coos, and Donghyuck whines, trying to escape the elder’s suddenly snake-like hold as he peppers kisses to his face. 

 

Johnny pulls Mark in for a selfie with him and Yuta, laughing as they spot Jungwoo and Donghyuck making faces in the back of the frame. Taeyong has completely forsaken his smoothie to the clutches of the rest of the table in favor of utilizing the free wifi. Jaehyun wins an intense round of rock paper scissors, not Mark’s version, and happily sips away at the smoothie, offering it to Taeyong in repentance. Taeyong accepts it with a small smile, only to shove it back in Jaehyun’s hands to leap over the table at Doyoung who makes the horrible mistake of cooing at the pair. Taeil and Donghyuck egg them on, and Sicheng manages to steal the smoothie from Jaehyun by subtly funneling the frozen drink from Jaehyun’s cup to his. He and Yuta share the spoils with unsubtle snickers. Mark’s fingers tingle and he determinedly wills it away, instead smiling from ear to ear. 

 

A little after the last slice of cheesecake is finished and Doyoung and Taeyong have finally made it back to their seats, the manager hyungs and noonas come to retrieve them, leaving behind the small table they had claimed in the corner. FBI Dave rises to follow. “Alright, time to head out. We’ve got a practice room booked for the next few hours and then we’re done for the day.”

 

“Yeet,” Sicheng says. Mark regrets teaching him that word. 

 

Dance practice isn’t terrible, all things considered. Mark has yet to get tired of listening to Regular on repeat, which is good since they spend almost the entire rehearsal block just repping it. The English version is pretty similar to the Korean version, but some of the transitions feel a little different with the alternate lyrics. It’s a problem only reps can fix. There's only a few days left, but it's never too late to improve. Mark sometimes gets the feeling that they're a group of overachievers. 

 

“If we do one more run through, I’m going to pass out,” Yuta huffs, downing his water bottle. Jungwoo passes him another one and looks vaguely impressed as he inhales it in quick succession.

 

The managers have cleared the room for their rehearsal, FBI Dave grudgingly letting himself be shuffled out. Mark still sees his face pop up in the window every so often. He’s like a highly armed puppy.

 

Taeyong is still practicing the transition of his and Mark’s trade off, mouth twisted in dissatisfaction. Mark snags one of the unopened bottles and makes his way to the other side of the room.

 

Taeyong looks surprised as Mark holds out a water bottle for him, accepting it with a small huff of exhaustion. “Thanks, Mark.”

 

Mark shrugs. “No problem. Are you doing alright, hyung?”

 

“Ah, it’s fine,” Taeyong waves him off, taking another careful sip of water. Donghyuck is doing some sort of miming game with Taeil in the background and it’s very distracting. Mark yanks his gaze away as Taeyong twists the cap shut. “The footwork is just messing me up a little. My ankle is a bit sore.”

 

Mark glances down, wincing at the slight swell. “Uh, yeah, that looks pretty bad. How are you still walking on that?”

 

“Speed healing,” Taeyong says cheerfully, dropping the bottle next to the mirror. Sicheng and Jaehyun help each other up at the movement, sensing that the break is nearly over. 

 

They get back into formation, facing the floor to ceiling mirrors and Taeyong counts them off. Yuta has to step to the side towards the end, shivering from the air conditioning while Jaehyun keeps rubbing his wrists like they’re in pain. Taeyong’s ankle heals at some point during the rehearsal and he’s back to speeding around the room as they pack up, checking the corners for misplaced belongings. Doyoung gets him to stop at one point so he remembers to eat, and Taeyong inhales the sandwich, most likely having burned a lot of energy from healing and speeding around. Mark feels like Taeyong would just keep going and going if the rest of them weren’t there to slow him down.

 

When the managers come to get them, FBI Dave sticks to them like a shadow, suspiciously eyeing them. Mark hikes his backpack further up his shoulder, flinching as his hand goes through the string. Jungwoo senses his drop in mood and weaves his way over, gently wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 

 

“Are you ok?” 

 

Mark shrugs but makes no attempt to get away from the comfort being offered. “Just tired. I’m ready to go home.”

 

“Aren’t we all,” Donghyuck mutters from next to him, staring down FBI Dave. He pushes his hair back with a sweat band he’d most likely stolen from Taeyong’s suitcase seeing as Mark has absolutely no recollection of the white and red strip of fabric. It suits him, maybe a little too well if the way Mark can’t seem to look away is any indication. “I’m ready to sleep without worrying that he’s hiding in my closet or something.”

 

Jungwoo latches onto Donghyuck’s wrist and drags the pair of them out of the room and into the van. The outside air is cool and refreshing compared to the stifling recycled air of the practice room. “I bet food will make you guys feel better. It’s getting late. And remember, we only have two days left!”

 

Mark accepts Johnny’s hand from inside the van helping him inside as Jungwoo hops in the front seat, still weary of the seat cushions. He feels like he’s less likely to, well, phase through another person than the seat. Donghyuck squishes into the space next to him, arm snaking around Mark’s.  

 

“Wake me up when we get there?” 

 

Mark lets him pillow his head on his shoulder, affectionately brushing his fringe behind his ear. His fingers remain solid. “Of course.”

 

~.~

 

The next day Mark wakes up with a pounding headache. Johnny is still asleep on the other side of the room when Mark stumbles to the bathroom. He feels half asleep, like he’s still in a dream he can’t quite remember. His fingers pass through the sink the first time he tries to grab it. When Mark looks in the mirror, his reflection seems to flicker. 

 

 _Calm down, calm down, calm down_ , he thinks, breathing out with his eyes closed and gently reaching for the sink again. 

 

This time when he touches it, it shatters. Explodes in his face. Cracks in a way that would have done Jisung’s magic hands proud. 

 

Mark lets out a yell and scrambles backwards, covering his face with his arms. Johnny comes rushing in seconds later, throwing open the door.

 

“Mark!”

 

This is the second time he’s been injured in a bathroom, Mark thinks to himself hazily as Johnny guides his arms away from his face, cursing as he sees the cuts on his arms. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

 

“This is not _fine_ , you’re _hurt_ ,” Johnny hisses, glancing around the bathroom and staring at the shattered sink. “What even happened?” 

 

Quick thinking is, fortunately, one of Mark’s strong suits given the practice he’s had with variety shows and the random things they like to throw at him and when choreography goes unexpectedly wrong on stage. It doesn’t make lying any easier. “I, uh, went to grab it,” which is true, “and I guess I must have grabbed it too hard, because it broke,” which is partially true.

 

The hotel they’re staying at is slightly older, so it makes his story a little more believable. Johnny still gives the sink a dubious glance but seems more focused on making sure Mark is ok. Mark shakes his head and winces as debris puffs out, dusting his clothes in a fine layer of dust. 

 

Thankfully, the cuts on Mark’s arms are shallow and he just opts to wear a long sleeve shirt in lieu of the short sleeved one he had planned on. Johnny spends a good five minutes protesting and trying to get Mark to tell the managers so they can get his cuts looked over, but they’re hardly anything to worry about. That aside, Mark’s always healed fast. The cuts have already stopped bleeding, so he slaps a bandaid over the worst of them and calls it good. Johnny frowns, but follows Mark out the hotel door, bag swung over one shoulder as he flicks off the light.

 

He and Johnny are a little late to the vans, but no one seems surprised. Mark guesses Johnny texted their group despite his agreement not to. Mark is, similarly, unsurprised. Taeyong’s instant worrying confirms it. 

 

“Are your arms ok? Nothing serious?” Taeyong frets, patting down Mark’s arms. 

 

“I’m fine,” Mark says, giving into Taeyong’s check over when Jaehyun clasps his shoulder in an iron-clad grip.

 

The managers stand to the side while Taeyong gently rolls up his sleeves, mouth twisting at the lacerations but not saying anything. They’re already starting to scab over, so there’s not much they can do about it. Taeyong finally lets him go and Donghyuck takes over, running his fingers up and down Mark’s arm and muttering to himself angrily. When they all pile into the vans, Taeil takes the seat to Mark’s left, the right already occupied Donghyuck and his downturned eyebrows. Taeil gently takes Mark’s right arm, pulling his four-leaf-clover out of his pocket in the other hand and closing his eyes. Mark feels a slight thrill go through his body, most likely a result of Taeil wrapping his luck around Mark. Donghyuck keeps murmuring, shifting Mark’s other arm between his hands, most likely trying to replicate Taeil’s efforts. 

 

By the time they make it to the music show the scabs look several days old and Taeil wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. Donghyuck holds onto Mark the whole way in, smiling brightly for the cameras and then dropping his head on Mark’s shoulder as soon as they get inside. His breathing is a little heavy and Mark steers them into the backstage prep room.

 

“You’re so stupid.”

 

“Who’re you calling stupid, stupid,” Donghyuck retorts, gratefully sinking into the couch Mark leads them to. He waves off the painkillers Sicheng offers him, “I’m fine, seriously. I’m not the one that needs to be more careful.”

 

Donghyuck fixes Mark with a hard stare and Mark ducks his head, sufficiently reprimanded. After they eat a quick breakfast someone from the studio provided, they do a dry run of the choreo, then split off to do some individual vocal warmups. Jungwoo’s going up and down the chromatic while Doyoung plays tones from his phone and matches them. Yuta’s quietly humming when Mark plops into the chair next to him.

 

Yuta gives his long sleeves a raised eyebrow. “You still going to wear that?”

 

“Yeah,” Mark pulls the collar away from his chest, the heat of the studio getting to him. They aren’t even under the stage lights yet. However, the cuts on his arms are still noticeable enough that he’ll get questions about them and the bandaids litering his arms, and he is not in the state of mind to deal with them. 

 

Yuta twists his lips but drops it, instead going through a few of the verses with Mark. 

 

When it’s time to go onto the show, Sicheng drops a hand on his shoulder. When Mark looks over, the elder gives him a searching look. “Are you ok?”

 

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired,” Mark shrugs, looking away. Wow, his hands are literally vibrating. Mark doesn’t dare look at them, worried what he’ll find. 

 

“We’re on in 3, 2, 1,” the camera director calls. “And we’re live.”

 

The group stands behind the curtain as the announcers finish introducing them, and one of the stagehands beckons them forward.

 

“-lcome to the show, NCT 127!”

 

The crowd gathered is screaming, a mix of English and badly pronounced Korean. Mark forces a smile on his face, keeping his hands firmly in his pocket as the ten of them make their way on stage. The studio is smaller than some talk shows they’ve been on, a small stage curtained to the right for their following performance. Jungwoo sends the camera a heart and the screaming amps in volume before the host manages to quiet them down.

 

“Wow, that’s quite the welcome,” the guy smiles, straightening his suit as he sits down. Mark doesn’t quite trust him, the way his eyes flicker to Johnny and Jaehyun, before landing on Mark himself. He suppresses a shiver at the predatory gleam in his eyes that Mark knows is never good news from a reporter. 

 

Johnny has been saying something behind him and Mark barely manages to catch the end of it, Taeyong jumping in.

 

“To the world-” he starts.

 

“We are NCT 127,” they finish, Mark feeling a sharp shock traveling up his spine as he says the numbers. He winces, biting his lip in an effort to keep his smile in place. 

 

“Ohhh, that’s fun,” the other female host says. “We should have a greeting like that. Think you guys could help us out?”

 

Taeil jokingly leads them through a cheer of their own before they begin working their way through the interview questions. They’re pretty basic, little things like who’s the messiest dorm mate, the cleanest, the one who sleeps the most, etc. Mark zones out, going on autopilot. Jungwoo rests his back against Mark’s knees, silent support to the onslaught of nerves he’s probably getting from Mark. Mark and Johnny lead the interview for the most part, but Mark lets Johnny take over when he can. At one point, Mark and Donghyuck are called to the front to perform their handshake and Mark carefully tugs his hands out of his pocket. 

 

Donghyuck’s staring at him when he finally looks up, eyebrow raised. Mark relaxes at the familiarity and sends him a challenging smirk. Donghyuck mockingly blows him a kiss that gets another roar from the crowd and they fly through the handshake. It’s as they finish that another shock goes up his arm and Donghyuck yanks his hand back like he’s been burned. His eyebrows are scrunching up in question and Mark hastily shakes his head, adding a smile to the crowd to play off the movement. 

 

“Well, that’s certainly well thought out,” the female interviewer laughs, crossing her ankles. There’s a flash of silver that has Mark looking down, but it’s just a thin anklet.

 

“We’ve known each other since we were, like, 10,” Mark says instead, jerking his thumb at Donghyuck. “We've wasted way too much time with this.”

 

“Lol~” Jungwoo says, like he’s said something profound, and it sends another wave of laughter through the studio. Mark feels the sting of electricity in his arms and he hasn’t even done anything. 

 

“So, Mark,” the male interviewer says once they’ve quieted down again. He’s got that gleam in his eye again that makes Mark want to get away from him. Jungwoo sits up with a frown and Donghyuck suddenly whips his head around like he’s been shocked again, but he’s five feet away. “I heard you’re from Vancouver.”

 

“That’s right,” Mark says, hands slipping back in his pockets. His head feels funny. “I lived there when I was younger.”

 

The interviewer hums, like he already knows this, instead shuffling through several notecards. The female interviewer looks confused in a way that makes it seem unplanned. Mark has a feeling it was and his stomach turns. “We managed to contact a few of your teachers and friends from school, and they said the most interesting thing.”

 

“Huh,” Mark says. 

 

“Was it that he puts the milk before the cereal?” Johnny abruptly cuts in. His eye is twitching and Mark thinks he has a feeling he knows where this is going. “Because, I can confirm, that is a lie. That instagram photo was for the aesthetic only.”

 

“Not quite,” the interviewer says, leaning forward in his seat. The female interviewer is frowning, looking backstage where the producer is waving his arms in panic. “Actually, it was a bit more, shall we say, interesting. I have it from several sources that-”

 

“Jake-” the female interviewer tries, reaching to grab his cards.

 

“-that you wore a cuff.”

 

The studio goes silent, the crowd frozen. Someone gasps and Mark feels like he can’t breathe. He knew this was coming. He _knew_ this was coming, but he can still feel the shock written on his face, his hands freeing themselves from his pockets and curling in his suit jacket. 

 

“I think we’re done here,” Jaehyun says, standing up with a thunderous expression. Sicheng quickly pops up with him, the temperature dropping several degrees. The crowd is no longer quiet, several of them berating the host and others muttering in disbelief. Johnny is standing, too, quietly translates what the host said to the others and Taeyong is quick to follow. 

 

“Thank you for your time, but we won’t tolerate these kinds of questions,” Taeyong says to the crowd, bowing quickly as Johnny translates. “We’ll be going now.”

 

Yuta and Doyoung pull Mark out of his seat, standing on either side of him like bodyguards. Mark can’t look up as they pass the interviewer. His shoulders feel like they’re frozen, scrunched up next to his ears. He can hear the various reactions from the crowd as they begin fighting amongst themselves. As they make their way backstage, the producer comes running up to them, his face apologetic and worried.

 

“I am so sorry,” he says frantically, hands clasped in front of him. “I had no idea he would say something like this, please understand we would never allow such an invasive question on our show-”

 

“That was out of hand,” Jaehyun says, and this happened to him earlier in the week but Mark doesn’t remember him being this mad then. Yuta looks seconds away from either passing out or throwing hands. “We’re leaving.”

 

“I understand, it was completely out of line, of course we’ll immediately put him on suspension and-”

 

“I don’t think you understand,” Johnny steps forward, and the producer shrinks back. “We are _done_ here.”

 

Taeil stands in front of Mark as several of the stage hands look at him curiously and they quickly avert their gazes. The shock from earlier doesn’t go away, instead traveling from his spine to his legs and back again. 

 

The producer looks like he’s seconds away from getting on his knees and pleading for them to stay. “Please, you don’t understand, it was a miracle we managed to get you on our show at all, if you don’t perform I’ll have to shut the studio down and-”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun repeats. “We’ll make an announcement to make it clear that we don’t blame the show for one rouge interviewer, but we will not be coming back.”

 

Mark looks at the female interviewer who’s berating the male interviewer, her expression furious. The crowd has split, several of them standing in front of the stage with linked hands while several others yell at them, gesturing to where they’ve gone backstage with anger written on their faces. 

 

“Let’s do it.”

 

Sicheng freezes, stepping back from the producer as he lowers his hands, snowflakes melting on his eyelashes. Jaehyun and Johnny share a glance and Doyoung pinches the bridge of his nose. 

 

“What?” Donghyuck glares at Mark gesturing back at the crowd. “Are you an idiot? Half of them look like they’re ready to throw down, and you still want to go back out there?”

 

“Let’s do it,” Mark repeats, strangely determined. “I’m just a person whose Trait doesn’t fit within what people think is normal. Just because I’m different, _we’re_ different, doesn’t mean we’re dangerous.”

 

“Did you get that?” the producer mutters to the camera man next to him. He nods mutely, having been frozen since they’d come backstage.

 

Taeil crosses his arms. “Mark, I respect what you’re trying to do, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 

“You know what,” Yuta rolls up his pants, tucking them in awkwardly so that his anklet is on display. “Why not? If this ends up going horribly wrong, we’ll just find a flight tonight instead. It’s not like we’re doing anything tomorrow.”

 

“Everyone here is an idiot,” Doyoung mutters, but starts pulling on his suit jacket. Jungwoo shrugs and follows suit. 

 

“Bad idea,” Taeyong mutters. "Bad, bad idea."

 

The managers, having made their way over sometime between Jaehyun and Johnny yelling at the producer and Sicheng literally threatening him, shrug, and one of them pats Taeyong’s shoulder sympathetically. “It’s your call. Everything is a mess as it is, it can't hurt to keep going.”

 

“I can control the crowd if they get too rowdy,” Jungwoo points out. His hair is sticking up at the back and Doyoung patiently pats it back down. “And Taeil hyung and Donghyuckie can, well, keep an _eye_ on things, so to speak, and Doyoung hyung can protect us. And-”

 

“I get the point,” Taeyong sighs, looking up at the studio lights with a grimace. “Fine. But if anything funky happens, you get back stage immediately. No. Exceptions.”

 

Since they’d originally planned on a quick transition from the interview to the Regular performance, it takes them less than five minutes to set up. Mark, Jaehyun, and Johnny all roll up their pants to match Yuta and the rest of the group decides to do the same. They look ridiculous, like they’re wearing bubble shorts, and the stylist noona looks like she’s about to pass out. Taeyong bows in her direction apologetically before doing the exact same thing.

 

When the curtain rises, Mark realizes that the male interviewer has disappeared and that a little under half of the crowd has left. His heart sinks, but the remaining half double their volume in an attempt to make up for it, lightsticks waving in the air. Taeyong winks at the camera before they start and they go wild. Mark doesn’t think they even look at their ankles.

 

“Ok?” Yuta asks from beside Mark as the female interviewer cheerfully reintroduces them. His head is tilted so that the camera doesn’t pick up the words, eyes flickering to the crowd and the back of the studio where FBI Dave is, yet again, sitting like he’s trying to become one with the shadows.

 

“Fantastic,” Mark says just as another shock goes up his spine. Forget Yuta, Mark is down to throw hands at whoever came up with the concept of a Trait blocker. 

 

The music starts and Mark breaths out, doing his best to perform. Stage Mark is a totally different beast from Everyday Mark, so it’s easy enough to slip beneath the persona, gracing the cameras with a smirk. He raps, dances in time with whoever’s next to him, but it’s hard to focus, a numbness spreading from his fingertips to his toes. The stage becomes blurry and Mark pushes and pushes, less than a minute left. He notices FBI Dave out of the corner of his eye, talking on his phone and waving his hand angrily in the air. It’s the first time Mark has seen him look anything but calm and it unsettles him.

 

“-Regular,” Taeyong finishes and they freeze, Mark crouched down between Doyoung and Jungwoo. 

 

Jungwoo’s hand is in front of him before Mark even attempts to get up and he sends him a grin he has a feeling comes more off as a grimace, grasping his arm and stumbling to his feet. Doyoung wraps an arm around him from the other side and they give the crowd and the cameras a bow and thank you before they’re ushered backstage. Yuta looks almost as bad as Mark, clutching Sicheng’s arm in a way that’s not flirtatious for once. Taeyong and Doyoung exchange looks, coming to a silent agreement.

 

“Can’t breath,” Mark huffs as Doyoung all but carries him to a chair, Jungwoo wrapping a supportive hand around his waist. His head is spinning and the shocks are getting worse and worse. His hands won’t stop shaking.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Doyoung reiterates, raising his hand and glaring at Mark’s cuff.

 

“Wait, what are you doing,” Mark panics, looking over his shoulder for FBI Dave. “We only have one day left, it’s fine.”

 

“No, I don’t think it is,” Doyoung hisses and Jungwoo places a hand on his shoulder. Yuta is collapsed across the room, his breathing coming out unevenly. Taeyong vibrates his hand through Johnny’s cuff, and seconds later Johnny yanks apart the metal encasing Yuta’s leg. “You’ve looked terrible since they strapped that thing on, and frankly, I care more about your wellbeing than some stupid precautions for an _underaged kid_.”

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t-” Mark tries.

 

“Yeah, we’re doing this,” Doyoung says, and encases Mark’s cuff in a forcefield.

 

~.~

 

Mark doesn’t really know where he is. Mark doesn’t really know _who_ he is. Everything around him is flickering, white and blue and electric. There’s echoes, voices, and he doesn’t recognize them. 

 

When he looks down at his hands, they’re fading in and out of sight, like a telescope not quite focused. It’s very interesting and he spends a few seconds watching the cycle repeat itself again and again. 

 

He’s dressed in a grey suit, silver studs adorning the sides. The jacket flaps float in the air, as if suspended by strings. Mark wonders if this is normal. 

 

The longer Mark is here, the scarier everything seems to be. The ground beneath his feet is an empty abyss, more blue and white that weave about hungrily, licking at Mark’s shoes and painting them black with soot. He bites his lip, hugging his translucent arms close to his chest. 

 

Mark doesn’t know how long he’s been there, or how much time has passed. He doesn’t dare move, afraid one false step will lead him into an endless fall into the roaring of lightning beneath him. Breathing is becoming more and more difficult and the taste of ozone is prevalent on his tongue. The feeling in his body starts to disappear, starting with his numbing toes and slowly traveling up his legs. His whole body is exhausted, and it’s sheer willpower and fear that keep him from collapsing. 

 

“Mark!”

 

Mark whips around, but there’s nobody there. He blinks, watching a blinding white line of electricity arc above his head, joining the cloud above it. It’s like looking up at a wave pool, except the waves are electricity and licking the air above Mark’s head. His hair is black, Mark notes absently. About the same shade as the soot on his shoes.

 

“Mark, can y-me?”

 

The voice splutters, like static from a radio, and Mark squints his eyes. They come into focus on a flickering body that looks similar to Mark’s own, except the man’s hair is grey even though he looks to be in his early 20’s. Mark wonders what that’s about.

 

“Hello?” Mark asks cautiously, stretching his foot out and letting it tap gently against the ground. It seems solid enough, so Mark inches towards the man, resolutely keeping his gaze trained on him and not the ground. The man doesn’t seem to see him, looking around and gritting his teeth like he’s in pain. 

 

There’s so much blue. Mark doesn’t know where to look, the man or the all encompassing cloud getting bigger and bigger. He steps closer, flinching as the cloud above him releases a streak of lightning that abruptly strikes the ground several feet away from him. The man’s fingers are solid when Mark brushes over them and the man whips his head around to stare Mark directly in the eyes. His form begins to solidify and he grabs onto Mark’s hand. 

 

“Mark! You need to come back!”

 

The man doesn’t seem dangerous, but his expression is desperate and it makes Mark nervous. He goes to tug his hand away and the man grips it even tighter. “Wait! I can’t-I need you to hold onto me, otherwise I can’t find your frequency.”

 

“My what?” Mark stares at their interwoven fingers. “I don’t know what you mean. Who are you?”

 

The man’s expression crumbles and he steps forward, “I’m Taeyong, remember? Your hyung? I’ve got you, I can get you home.”

 

“Taeyong.” The name doesn’t ring any bells, but there’s something inside Mark that seems to recognize him. “Am I lost?”

 

“Not anymore,” Taeyong says determinedly. His body seems to be vibrating and he lets out a cry, dropping to his knees but refusing to relinquish the hold he has on Mark. Mark swiftly follows, irrationally worried for a man he doesn’t even remember. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner, that we didn’t notice sooner, but it’s,” Taeyong coughs harshly, “going to be al-alright. I’ll bring you home.”

 

“Ok, ok,” Mark says nervously, patting Taeyong on the back. He doesn’t know this man, but he feels like home, and he seems much better than this wasteland of blue and the clouds above him, swirling menacingly. “Let’s go, then.”

 

Taeyong breaths out a sigh of relief that breaks into a cough halfway through. “Ok. Mark, I need you to match my-my frequency.”

 

“Your _what_?” 

 

“How fast my molecules are moving,” Taeyong wheezes, his grip getting weaker. “You’re moving too fast right now. Close your eyes, focus on my hand. Do what I do.”

 

Mark still has no idea what that means, but his hand is much more solid in Taeyong’s tight grip and it’s reassuring. As fascinating as it was seeing through his hands, he much prefers them whole. He closes his eyes. 

 

At first, he doesn’t understand what Taeyong wants him to do. The sound of electricity crackling is all he registers, then Taeyong’s hand starts to disappear from his. Mark’s eyes snap open and he scrambles forward, desperate not to be left alone again. 

 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” Taeyong resolidifies, rubbing Mark’s back as he clings to the elder. Mark tries not to think of his shaking hands, instead burying his face in Taeyong’s neck. Suddenly, being left alone in this unknown place is terrifying. “I’ve got you. It’s g-going to be fine. But I need you to copy me, Mark, I don’t know how much longer I can keep this u-up.”

 

Mark brings his face back enough to stare at Taeyong and his shaky grin. It's not as reassuring as he seems to think it is. “What do you mean?”

 

“I’ve-I’ve never gone this fast before, my molecules aren’t meant to v-vibrate like yours,” Taeyong manages. “Mine are meant to move me for- _urgh_ -ward, but yours vibrate. They go so fast that no one can s-see you. Invisibility. Please, do what I do.”

 

Mark nods, closing his eyes again. This time, when Taeyong starts to disappear from his grip, Mark follows him, determined not to be left behind. The harder he focuses on Taeyong, the more solid he gets. The crackling of electricity starts to fade but Mark doesn’t dare open his eyes, instead focusing on matching Taeyong’s breathing. 

 

“That’s it. Good job, Mark. Stay with me.”

 

Mark holds on as tight as he can. His body is trembling with the effort but Mark refuses to let go. His fingers spasm the longer they sit there, but Mark continues to focus on Taeyong’s hand, and there’s something in him that can feel the vibration beneath them, and Mark tries to match it. 

 

The sound of hissing gets replaced with a quiet murmuring, the echoes of voices Mark heard earlier getting louder and louder. He starts to distinguish them, hear the different tones, and he realizes they’re saying his name, his and Taeyong’s.

 

“-ark! You can do it, Mark, come back. C’mon Taeyong hyu-”

 

“-ome back, c’mon, you still owe me ramen-”

 

“-ing to kick your a-”

 

“-lieve you would even think of leaving me before I beat the game-”

 

“You’ve got this,” Taeyong tells Mark. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this. We’re almost there, hold on a little longer for me.”

 

“-ove you, you know we do-”

 

Mark breaths. 

 

There’s a sudden silence and Mark’s ears ring, his eyes still screwed shut and his arms still hugging Taeyong in a vice grip. Then Taeyong’s body goes limp beneath his and suddenly there’s an explosion of noise.

 

“Hyung! Oh my god, you idiot-”

 

Someone’s hands are on Mark’s back and he lets out a cry, gripping Taeyong harder. The hand quickly retreats, and the voices lower to a comforting murmur, reassurances being whispered. His whole body is shaking now.

 

There’s a bit more murmuring, and then a soft hand touches his cheek. Mark reluctantly opens his eyes. The boy staring back at him has the most beautiful eyes Mark has ever seen, locks of cherry-blond hair escaping from behind his ears. Mark can’t help but let one hand reach out for him, fingers brushing it back from his face, and it’s even softer than Mark had expected. 

 

“Hey,” the boy says, clutching Mark’s hand to his cheek. “Hey, hyung. I need you to let go of Taeyong hyung now, ok? He needs medical attention. As a matter a fact, so do you.”

 

Mark stares at him unblinkingly, and when the boy gently tugs at Mark’s hand he follows him willingly, feeling like there wasn’t a force in the world that could keep Mark from him. He stumbles to his feet and the boy catches him. Mark knew that he would.

 

The people around them are whispering hurriedly but Mark pays them no mind. “Who are you?”

 

The boy’s smile freezes on his face, and Mark knows he’s done something wrong. Before he can apologize, the boy beams brightly again, if not a little more subdued. Mark forgets what he was going to say. “I’m Donghyuck. We’ve been best friends since, well, forever.”

 

“We have?” Mark asks curiously. “That’s nice. You’re nice. You’re really pretty.”

 

Mark’s legs give out from under him and the boy scrambles under the extra weight. Mark feels his eyes slide shut and the voices around him rise frantically. There’s a loud thud as a door Mark hadn’t even noticed swings open, hitting the wall. There’s more voices, and then Donghyuck’s raised voice, his grip tightening on Mark. It seems like a wonderful time to take a nap, so safe in Donghyuck’s embrace. There are more hands, threatening to take Mark away, but Donghyuck holds tight. Mark knows he won’t go anywhere.

 

A great time for a nap, Mark thinks. 

 

Donghyuck slowly pulls away and Mark wants to protest, but his mind is fuzzy, not cooperating with him. Thankfully, Donghyuck’s hand remains in his, solid and warm, and Mark is suddenly lying down. There’s a feeling of weightlessness, but Donghyuck stays with him. The darkness is much less frightening with Donghyuck beside him, and Mark succumbs to its comforting embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the wait was worth it ;)
> 
> And, I gotta say, the wait for Superhuman was TOTALLY worth it. And dude, Boom is, like, suddenly my life? Don't even get me started on DNYL and Fireflies. And Taeyong and Taeil's respective solo (or feature) songs??? #streamPurple #streamLongFlight. And WayV be out there snatching my wig with Take Off, like, wow, waiting for NCT 2019 so I can start walking around with a lighter wallet.


	3. I'm Jared, 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You were lucky your friend broke the law.”
> 
> “Who broke the law?” Mark startles. 
> 
> “Ah, that’d be Doyoung,” Johnny tells Mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being MIA the last like three months, but I have a good reason for it. It's called: school. 
> 
> But anyways, yet again, I've extended the chapter length because I can never seem to stop myself. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts and let's hold out for NCT 2020 because like, 2019 is not happening. Love ya'll <3

“-said it’s exhaustion and Trait strain, and a heavy dose of build up-“

 

“-temporary, we hope-“

 

Mark wakes up slowly, weaving in and out of consciousness. He feels like he’s floating. It’s a fuzzy, fluffy sort of feeling. It’s certainly not a bad place to be, for the time being, but there’s this warmth he vaguely recalls that was much more gratifying. Mark frowns. What was it?

 

Breathing out through his nose, Mark tries to wiggle his fingers. They hardly twitch, like they’ve been stuck in the same position for days. His back is sore and Mark desperately wants to pop it, but even his eyelids are unresponsive. 

 

There’s a hand in his. It’s soft, warm fingers interlaced with his own, a feeling of safeness associated with the action. If this were an anime, Mark would be swooning, but he can’t even open his mouth, much less collapse dramatically. Besides, he’s already done that.

 

Mark still can’t remember beyond the lighting and Taeyong and Donghyuck. He supposes he must have had a life before that, but for the life of him he can’t remember. On the bright side, he has plenty of time to figure it out, as his body still refuses to respond. The voices are still fading in and out, but the hand stays firmly in his, the fingers shifting ever so slightly every once in a while. 

 

“-back to Korea?”

 

Mark strains his hearing, and the voices become clearer, sharper. He winces mentally. “-might be for the best. Have you heard what’s been happening? Those poor kids. Besides, maybe having them near him will help him, especially if he _is_ a Focal.”

 

The hand in his tenses slightly before relaxing, the breathing of the person besides him stuttering before evening out. Mark knows this trick. He’s pretended to be asleep enough times to recognize it. Or has he? Mark fumbles for the feeling of remembrance, but it slips away.

 

One of the other people in the room sighs and there’s a shuffling of papers. “This whole situation is a mess. The amount of security around here is ridiculous. I suppose they’d have a better response in Korea. What did their managers say?”

 

Mark gets the feeling the other person is shrugging. “It’s already been a week and neither of them have recovered. I think they were planning on leaving soon, anyways.”

 

“Well, it’s for the best. Let’s do one last check up, at least. I’ll wake the kid up.”

 

Mark expects to feel hands on his shoulders, but instead the hand holding his twitches, the other person pretending to wake up. “Ah, sorry.”

 

It’s Donghyuck. Mark feels relief flood his system. 

 

“It’s alright,” one of the doctors says gently. “We’re just going to check his vitals one last time. You can stay, if you’d like.”

 

The hand holding his gently squeezes his fingers. “If that would be ok, please.”

 

The doctors move about and Mark struggles to open his eyes. Something cold is pressed against his heart and Mark wishes he could jerk away, but all he manages is a weak flinch. 

 

It’s enough, though.

 

“Mark!” Donghyuck’s hands cradle his cheeks, tugging at his ears, carding through his hair. “Mark, are you there? Can you hear me?”

 

 _Yes_ , Mark wants to say, but only manages a small puff of air out of his nose. There’s this uncomfortable feeling building up in the base of his stomach, a new sort of heaviness tugging at his eyelids. 

 

“Woah, hey, back up, kid,” one of the doctors says.

 

“I’m fine,” Donghyuck snaps, his body rustling the bed in a way that suggests they had attempted to pull him away from Mark. “He needs - Mark, you need to calm down.”

 

It’s like something’s squeezing around his torso, an unpleasant zinging running up and down his nervous system. 

 

“Kid, you need to get away-“

 

“No! He needs, he needs us, I need to keep him grounded-“

 

“You _heard_ \- look, we don’t even know if that’s the case, this is all speculation-“

 

The beeping of the heart monitor picks up and Mark gasps for breath, his fingers twitching as the feeling of electricity stings at his spine. Donghyuck’s hand is tightly gripped in his, strong, steady. Mark needed him to let go, to keep him safe from the electricity so strong Mark can almost taste it. Mark doesn’t want to hurt Donghyuck. He feels something warm curl around his heart.

 

“It’s. It’s working?”

 

“I _told_ you I was right. Hey, kid, you got your other friends on speed dial?”

 

“Uh.”

 

“Call them. In the meantime, keep him steady. Think of your connection like this-“

 

Just like that, Mark’s hearing cuts out, as does his perception of time. He drifts again, this time without the fear of the electricity that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Sometimes, he catches hint of familiar voices, whispering things he can’t understand. Still, the warmth tugging at his heart persists. 

 

Eventually, the feeling in his fingers returns, enough to tell that someone new is holding his hand. The sheets pulled over him feel softer than they used to be, the room a little warmer. His eyebrows scrunch when he feels something tickling his forehead, his fingers twitching. The hand in his suddenly tightens and Mark becomes aware that the conversation around him had stopped. 

 

“Mark? Can you hear me?”

 

Mark groans, feeling an answering headache to the ringing in his ears. When he finally manages to pry his eyes open, it’s to two other boys he doesn’t recognize. The one on his left is shivering slightly, wrapped in one of the hospital blankets. The one holding his hand is muttering to himself, clutching a four leaf clover in his other hand. 

 

Mark blinks, then turns to the blanket burrito. “Hello?”

 

Blanket burrito breaks into a smile, scooting his chair closer to Mark’s bed. “Hey, Mark. I’m glad you’re finally awake. It’s been-yo, Taeil hyung, you’re freaking him out.”

 

Four leaf clover - Taeil? - pauses mid sentence, giving Mark a sheepish grin. “Ah, sorry. I forgot you might be a little disoriented. I’m Taeil, 24-”

 

“-and I never learned how to read,” blanket burrito mutters. He yelps when Taeil reaches over to smack his shoulder, sticking his tongue out at him.

 

“Yes, well, I’m plenty proficient at reading, thank you. My Trait is luck based-”

 

“It _is_ luck,” blanket burrito adds helpfully.

 

“-and I’ve known you since you joined the company, about 7 years ago.”

 

Mark doesn’t really know what a Trait is, but if this is one of those people he’s apparently known most of his life but somehow completely forgotten, he’s sure it will be explained at some point. 

 

“I’m Yuta,” blanket burrito says, shivering and pulling a hood over his pink hair. “I’m also older than you, surprise, surprise, and my Trait is fire.”

 

Mark hates to ask it, but- “Then why are you shivering?”

 

Yuta and Taeil wince, glancing at each other tellingly. Mark wasn’t born yesterday. Something happened, possibly the same something that had happened to him (not that he really knows what that is, yet). Speaking of which.

 

“Where’s Taeyong-ssi?”

 

Yuta takes a deep breath and looks at the ceiling. “We’re starting with the hard questions, I see.”

 

Taeil absentmindedly fiddles with his clover. “Taeyong is fine. He’ll recover in no time and he’s actually in the room next door. As for what happened. Do you remember anything before Taeyong came and, ah, retrieved you?”

 

Mark shakes his head. 

 

“Wonderful. Ok, let’s start at the beginning.”

 

At some point during the abridged version of Mark’s entire life story, Yuta takes over, Taeil briefly ducking out of the room to grab water for the three of them. Mark doesn’t remember when it happened, but somehow Yuta and Taeil end up squished in the bed alongside him, pulling out videos and photos on their phones to show Mark. It’s a bit unnerving to see himself on screen doing things he can’t remember doing, having conversations he can’t recall. The weirdest part, though, is when he disappears from the screen entirely.

 

“ _Woah_.”

 

Mark barely registers Taeil and Yuta’s snickers, too immersed in watching himself disappear and reappear with, apparently, a single number. 

 

“So my power, sorry, Trait is counting?”

 

Yuta snickers. “I mean, that’s one way of looking at it.”

 

“What Yuta means,” Taeil rolls his eyes, “is that it’s your Conduit, the thing that lets you activate your Trait. Your Trait is invisibility, basically, although I’d call it a ghost Trait since you basically disappear from this plane of existence. Most people rely on their Conduit until they reach adulthood, sort of like a tool to help better control your Trait. Your’s is counting. Mine is this four leaf clover, which I don’t really need but is extremely helpful in focusing my luck. Yuta’s-”

 

“Mine is nothing,” Yuta says sharply, his fists clenching his blanket. “And anyways, I doubt you really need yours anymore, Mark. You turned 19 right before we left, I think you've used it for fun more than necessity at this point since it makes you seem more dramatic.”

 

“I am not _dramatic_ ,” Mark protests. Pauses to think about it. “Wait, am I?”

 

“You’re a lot less dramatic than the rest of the people in our group,” Taeil reassures him.

 

Yuta hums, raising an eyebrow at Taeil. 

 

“Well, sometimes your reactions are a bit over the top,” Taeil amends.

 

Another hour passes. A few nurses come in to check on Mark’s vitals, muttering to themselves and marking things down on clipboards. At some point Yuta excuses himself, shivering so harshly that he’s almost vibrating, and Johnny comes in. 

 

Mark finds himself carefully crushed in a hug, warm and comforting and automatically melts into it. Taeil laughs softly, his hand still clutching Mark’s. Whatever Taeil’s been doing seems to make a difference. Mark feels a lot less tired than he has the last few days. He assumes it's been days. Has it been days?

 

“I’m Johnny,” Johnny introduces himself when he finally leans back. The bags under his eyes are truly impressive, almost as dark as Yuta’s but a little lighter than Taeil’s, who Mark feels is going to kneel over at any second. “I’m from America.”

 

Mark nods at Johnny’s intent look before he realizes. “Oh! You speak English.”

 

It’s a relief, the words practically rolling off his tongue. He hadn’t realized that other than the nurses, everyone around him had been speaking Korean. Not that he’s spoken to a lot of people as of yet, but still, it’s a small comfort. 

 

Johnny laughs, following Taeil’s lead and perching on the end of his bed. “Yeah, we’ve been roommates for a while.”

 

“Cool, cool,” Mark nods. “Uh, do you know what’s happening? Cause, like, I know I just woke up and all but I’m pretty sure I’m still missing something big. Besides, you know, my memories.”

 

Clearly, Mark’s touched a nerve. Johnny and Taeil suddenly look like they’d rather be anywhere else. Thankfully, the doctor chooses that moment to slide open the door, smiling like he doesn’t notice the tension he’s just dispersed. 

 

“Well, Mr. Lee. I’m glad to see you’re finally awake. I’m Doctor Jones,” the doctor holds out a hand and Mark shakes it.

 

“I’m Mark Lee. Uh, but you already knew that.”

 

“Never hurts to be certain,” Doctor Jones says kindly while Johnny holds a hand to his face to muffle his snickering. His black hair is streaked with silver in a flattering way, and the smile on his face is reassuring. “How are you feeling? Hopefully not too under the weather.”

 

“I’m better,” Mark says truthfully. The headache has reduced drastically, and the tingling in his limbs is more of a buzz beneath his skin than shocks of lightning. “What happened? And why can’t I remember anything.”

 

“Ah, you’re diving right in,” Doctor Jones shuffles some papers on his clipboard before setting it to the side. “You’ve experienced an extreme case of Trait Strain. Lucky for you, I happen to be an expert, although I rather wish I didn’t have to be. There was quite a bit of build up from your Cuff which probably occurred because of several things. Firstly, you are from Canada, correct?”

 

Mark shrugs, looking to Johnny and Taeil. Johnny steps forward. “He lived in Vancouver for about seven or eight years.”

 

“Then am I right to assume you wore a Cuff during part of the duration of your time there?”

 

Johnny nods. 

 

“I thought so. As I said before, though, it never hurts to double check. You’re on file for about a year of Trait therapy, which is always good, although I have a feeling you didn’t do your exercises as often as you should have, no?”

 

“I think I saw him meditating maybe twice over the last few years,” Taeil provides, Johnny helping him translate. 

 

Doctor Jones hums. “Then your Trait Strain was most certainly compounded. Many people who, ah, wear Cuffs tend to have the same issue, usually those going through puberty or at least close in age. Your Trait is still in fluctuation and settling into your body. Without a fairly consistent usage, there tends to be a lot of buildup that, if not dispersed, can cause damage to a person or, like in your case, a burst of energy to get rid of the excess. It seems you were on the edge of a burst before you came to America, so the Cuff preventing runoff made the case even worse. As soon as your friend took your Cuff off, the energy had to go somewhere or, well. Let’s not think of such unfortunate circumstances, yes? You were lucky your friend broke the law.”

 

“Who broke the law?” Mark startles. 

 

“Ah, that’d be Doyoung,” Johnny tells Mark, once again sitting on the edge of Mark’s bed. Taeil is comfortably tucked into the armchair at the corner of the room, eyes fluttering closed as he falls to sleep in seconds. “And, well, a few of the others, but mostly Doyoung. He was the one that took your Cuff off.”

 

Doctor Jones shakes his head. “I’m surprised that they didn’t notice your energy levels when they went to fit your Cuff. No one in the right mind would let you wear one without serious therapy first.”

 

Johnny winces. “That’s my bad. I kinda nearly died. I think they were more worried about finishing than they were about results after that happened.”

 

Mark wants to say he’s surprised, but he’s really, really not. Still, his heart beats a little bit faster, his heart monitor speeding up to match and Johnny pats Mark’s hand reassuringly. The sleeves of the black hoodie Johnny’s wearing slip over his hands and Mark rolls them up without thought. They must have been close, Mark thinks.

 

“That would do it,” Doctor Jones blinks rapidly. “I say, your group is more trouble than I’d expected.”

 

Johnny smiles warily. “The protestors outside didn’t give you a clue?”

 

“Protestors?” Mark asks. 

 

Johnny resolutely looks away. The dark grey curtains have been tied shut over the small window since Mark woke up, apparently hiding more than just sunlight. 

 

“In any case,” Dr. Jones says, unwrapping the stethoscope from around his neck, “your memories should return within a week. With the burst, your body went into survival mode. I won’t get into the small little details, but essentially, your mind blocked off anything that wasn’t necessary at the moment of burst. You’re still feeling the aftereffects now, as a matter of fact. Once your body realizes the danger has passed, your memories should come back, so don’t be surprised if you remember small things throughout the week. Now, let’s get a quick look at your vitals.”

 

Mark really wants to comment on the ‘should’, but Johnny’s expression is already tense enough as it is. Taeil is passed out in the corner, curled in a blanket that looks identical to the one Yuta was wearing earlier. Instead, he breaths in deep when Dr. Jones tells him to, exhaling all the air in his lungs and repeating. His heart rate is checked, as well as his eye tracking and, Mark has no better word for it, knee reflexes. 

 

The room is getting steadily lighter despite the curtains at the window and Mark allows his gaze to wander, ignoring the muttering between Johnny and the Doctor. There’s a small sink to the left where Dr. Jones had washed his hands earlier and a small minifridge he assumes is filled with water bottles. Besides the arm chair, there’s two rolling chairs and a small nightstand to Mark’s left. At the foot of his bed is another bed that looks to be slightly wider than the width of the bed decked in flowers and assorted chocolates. 

 

There’s signs of life, from the orange hoodie thrown over one of the chairs to the water glass at the window next to the flower vase. Someone’s bag is carelessly tossed in the corner, and all the wall chargers are occupied with iphone chargers and a lone android charger. The room itself is an unfortunate shade of blinding white, but the warmer toned water paintings and photographs make it a little less glaring. 

 

“-to be discharged.”

 

“So soon?”

 

Mark looks up. Dr. Jones looks surprised, while Johnny explains something that Mark apparently missed, typing quickly on his phone. 

 

Dr. Jones sighs, clipping a few papers to his clipboard. “I can’t say I’m surprised. The waiting room is hardly a good place for the rest of you to be, especially with everything that’s going on. I assume you’ve talked with the, ah, bodyguard?”

 

“Everything is coordinated,” Johnny nods. “And sorry about Dave-ssi, I mean, Mr. Dave. He’s a little awkward at times, but he means well.”

 

“I know he means nothing by it. Well, if that’s all, I’ll take one last look at the other Mr. Lee before formally discharging them. Make sure they take their medications, Mr. Seo.”

 

Johnny nods, reaching out to shake Dr. Jones’ hand. “Of course. Thank you for all your help.”

 

Dr. Jones gives Mark one last smile before exiting the room, the door snapping shut behind his white coat tails. Mark immediately turns to Johnny. “What do you mean ‘we’re leaving’? What protests? What’s going on.”

 

Johnny pockets his phone, sparing Taeil a quick glance. “You probably don’t remember much about it, huh. Ok, so you know how we’re kpop idols?”

 

“Taeil hyung and Yuta hyung showed me,” Mark nods. 

 

“Ok, cool, so we were on this variety show and you’ve been having trouble with your Cuff since we got here, and like this, hmm, _guy_ basically told everyone you were wearing a Cuff, which is extremely private and sensitive information. Lots of people are still backward minded about them, so a bunch of people demanded you be taken out of the public eye and, uh, threatened us and stuff. Things happened, and when Doyoung took off your Cuff, there was the burst, which you remember, and this FBI agent that’s been following us around, Dave-ssi, called backup and a lot of other _stuff_ happened that I’m sure you’ll hear all about from the others before they took us to the hospital. They patched the rest of us up fairly quick, but both you and Taeyong are experiencing cases of Trait Strain, although for different reasons,” Johnny takes a deep breath. 

 

Mark wordlessly offers him his glass of water. Johnny gulps it down gratefully.

 

“So we’ve been here for a few days,” Johnny continues. “The show was live, so there’s all sorts of reporters, protesters and supporters outside. It’s too dangerous for us to go out there, much less stay here another week, so we’re catching another flight back to Korea tonight. Sneakily. Or as sneakily as any of us can ever be.”

 

Mark slowly takes it in. Taeil snores, lightly snuffling in his blanket before his eyelids droop closed again. “Ok. Where are the others? How are we getting out of here without anyone catching us?”

 

“The rest are in the waiting room,” Johnny jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “We’re only allowed to have two people in a room at a time, so me and Taeil are with you, I think Sicheng and Jungwoo are with Taeyong, and everyone else is trying to nap in the waiting room. The managers are coordinating with SM, the airline and the FBI, so it’s mainly just us and FBI Dave. I guess we’ll see how we’re getting out of here when they get back.”

 

Johnny slides down, letting his head rest on the edge of Mark’s bed. “I’m so ready to get home and tease Sicheng about how obvious he’s being. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Yuta’s face that red before, and he’s literally a fire conductor.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mark tells him. “Good for him, I think? But I would like to get out of here. The white hurts my eyes.”

 

“Hospitals seem to enjoy this theme,” Johnny hums thoughtfully. “Hey, want some cornflakes?”

 

With the bag of corn flakes eaten (Mark wants to assume that he’s gotten them from the cafeteria, except it’s an entire family-sized _box_ ), Johnny quietly helps Taeil into the waiting room so the next visitors can come say hi to Mark. Jaehyun, as he introduces himself, seems to be seconds away from face planting on Mark’s bed. Still, he also speaks English and even plays some Frank Ocean as a sort of ambiance. Mark doesn’t remember ever listening to what Jaehyun tells him is his favorite song, but he instantly understands why past him enjoyed it so much. Sicheng pokes his head in to say a quick hello before leaving to get some rest in the common rome. Jungwoo comes in soon after and collapses in the rolling chair, tugging the bright orange hoodie over his head and mussing his hair. 

 

“Is that even yours?” Jaehyun asks doubtfully, eyeing the short sleeves Jungwoo keeps tugging down. 

 

“Nope,” Jungwoo says. He steals one of Mark’s pillows, patting his hand and laying his head on it. “I think it’s Haechanie’s. He stole mine yesterday, so I’m returning the favor.”

 

“Ah,” Jaehyung nods. “Cool. Tic-tac-toe?”

 

Mark loses miserably. Jungwoo and Jaehyun battle it out, gasping dramatically and throwing corn flake crumbs in an attempt to distract one another. Mark laughs so hard his stomach hurts and the nurse has to come and check when his heart monitor fluctuates so rapidly. 

 

They give him his phone, and he finds out that the android charger is apparently his. There’s hundreds of texts and missed calls from his parents, his brother, and several others he doesn’t recognize such as one Na Jaemin and some Park Jisung. He tucks it away, deciding that it would probably be better to deal with them once he got his memories back.

 

He eats lunch with Jungwoo and Jaehyun, sandwiches from the cafeteria which are a thousand times better than the ‘soup’ the nurse brings him. He feels a kindred spirit in Jungwoo, like an older brother he’s never had (because Mark is, apparently, an older brother in real life) and they take turns poking Jaehyun’s cheeks when he falls asleep face first on the sandwich wrapper.

 

Mark doesn’t remember falling asleep himself, but when he opens his eyes the clock on his bedside table reads half past seven and Doyoung (who Mark has yet to officially meet but whose photo he was introduced to by Jaehyun) and who he assumes is one of the managers are quietly tidying the room, gathering bags and phone chargers. 

 

“Ah, you’re awake,” Doyoung says happily, if quietly, walking over to give Mark a careful hug. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see you until now.”

 

“It’s ok,” Mark leans into the hug. “Um, are we leaving now?”

 

“Yeah,” Doyoung replies, reaching for a bundle of clothes at Mark’s bedside table. “These are your clothes. There’s a bathroom through the door to the right. Do you need any help?”

 

Mark frowns, sliding his legs out from beneath the covers and slowly putting weight on them. He feels stable enough and looks up at Doyoung with a grin. “I think I’ll be ok, thank you.”

 

The manager gives Mark a small pat on the shoulder when he passes by, a smile at the corner of his lips. The door slides easily and Mark taps it closed behind him. He almost jumps when he looks at the mirror to see himself staring back at him.

 

“Ah…”

 

His hair is black, he notes, puffing it out of his eyes. His glasses sit awkwardly on his nose and Mark adjusts them, prodding his sunken cheeks with a frown. There’s little to be done for the way his hair sits limply on his head without the use of a shower, so Mark pulls the hoodie over his head, tugging on the dark wash jeans and stuffing his feet into colored sneakers. 

 

Doyoung hands him a face mask when he comes back out, one already secured over his own face. The manager leads them out into the hallway, Doyoung supporting part of Mark’s weight as his legs began to wobble the second he got out of the bathroom. The hallway is empty save for Taeyong, who’s propped up by Jungwoo and Jaehyun. A stern looking man in all black nods his head and they follow him down the staircase at the back of the hallway. The go down single file, the manager bringing up the rear. The man in black touches his ear and mutters something before gesturing them out into the night. Mark catches sight of a gun strapped to his waist.

 

“FBI Dave-ssi?” Mark whisper to Doyoung, who nods and secures his arm around Mark’s shoulder once again. 

 

They make it to the dumpsters without incident. Three black vans wait for them, the doors sliding smoothly open and hands reaching out to help the rest of them in. Taeyong, Jaehyun and Jungwoo end up in the car in front of them, while he and Doyoung are squished in the middle car next to Sicheng. The dirty blond sits tensely in his seat but fusses over Mark’s hoodie until he deems him warm enough. 

 

As one, all three vans roll out, followed by two figures on motorbikes. Men in black sit in front of them and behind them, murmuring into their earpieces and looking overall like the menacing mercenaries you’d see in an action movie. Doyoung keeps a constant hand on Mark’s back when they arrive, and what looks like snow starts to drift around them in the middle of August. 

 

The other two vans follow close behind, a mix of Mark’s group and men in black. The suitcases quickly disappear from sight in the arms of airline attendants and they’re swept through security, the airport empty save for the thudding of boots and quiet puffs of air. 

 

Mark doesn’t notice Donghyuck until the younger grabs his elbow, taking the opposite side of Doyoung.

 

“Are you alright?” Donghyuck asks quietly, drowning in a light blue hoodie Mark recognizes to be Jungwoo’s. At this point, Mark is just going to accept that all of them have dark circles under their eyes because Donghyuck’s are eerily similar to Mark’s and everyone else’s. 

 

“I’m ok,” Mark murmurs back, shifting his arm until it’s linked with Donghyuck’s. “How are you?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

The silence that follows is lighter than the one that preceded it and Mark feels a little braver. He notices Sicheng slip away, sliding between figures until he’s next to Yuta. The elder knocks away Sicheng’s hand when he goes to touch his shoulder and Sicheng draws back with a grimace. 

 

“They’re fighting again,” Donghyuck tells Mark in a low voice. 

 

“Discuss that later,” Doyoung leans down to whisper. The fingers on Mark’s back are twitching and the elder’s eyes dart from corner to corner like he expects to find something there.

 

Even though Mark is, essentially, surrounded by a group of strangers, he feels safer than he can remember feeling for his entire 3 days of existence as memoryless Mark. 

 

Johnny’s switched places with Jungwoo at Taeyong’s left, trading glances with Jaehyun at the right as Jungwoo weaves to the front of the group. If Mark were to guess, he’d say Jungwoo is feeling for other people what with the way he’s glancing back and forth like Doyoung is. Taeil slips to the front and places a hand on Jungwoo’s shoulder, bolstering his chance for success. 

 

They stop at one of the end terminals, the seats completely empty. It’s eerie, the silence oppressive. 

 

“Where’s the plane?”

 

Mark looks up. All of the gates are empty, including 17B that they stopped in front of. There’s not a plane in sight. The men in black look restless, their shoulders tensing and guns appearing out of thin air. Dave-ssi has a hand to his ear, a scowl on his face.

 

They spot the plane moments later, about 20 feet away. There’s one of those airplane car things pulling it away and the men in black shout, pulling out their guns.

 

Sicheng is faster. He leaps forward, hand outstretched. Ice sprouts from his fingertips, fueled by the anger in Sicheng’s eyes. It passes through the glass, shattering it, and freezes the car in place. The man inside dives out of the car and scrambles away.

 

“Be ready,” one of the men barks, gun held up to his face. 

 

Doyoung pulls Mark and Donghyuck behind him, backing them up until they’re in the center of the group. Sicheng is still along the outer edges, ice sprouting from his fingertips and dripping onto the floor. It weaves its way up the walls and underfoot, curling angrily, beautifully. Soon the entire airport is sheathed in ice, patterns curling up the wall like angry spikes. 

 

The attack comes out of nowhere. One second the gate is empty, the next, it’s filled with people of all ages, yelling and screaming and armed with Traits and guns and frying pans. Doyoung activates his Trait, a purple dome forming around them. Yuta barely manages to pull Sicheng inside, Sicheng’s Trait falling dormant under Yuta’s touch. 

 

It’s chaos. Mark keeps a firm grip on Doyoung’s arm, feeling the way it trembles with strain. There’s fire, bees, and gunshots raining down on them. Taeyong is hurriedly saying something to Johnny, Jaehyun, and Taeil, but Mark’s hearing is obscured by the buzzing from earlier. Jungwoo grabs Mark’s free hand and squeezes. There’s a jolt from where Mark’s hand is connected to Jungwoo’s and suddenly he can hear again.

 

Mark looks at Jungwoo. “You were going into shock,” Jungwoo tells him. 

 

“Ah.”

 

There’s no time to think further on it as Taeyong darts over to their half of the circle. “We’re getting on the plane,” Taeyong says without prelude.

 

“Great plan, genius,” Doyoung grits out. His entire upper body is shaking. “How do you plan on doing that?”

 

They jolt back as one of the attackers gets close enough to pound on the shield. Mark feels a shock of fear slice through him. Jaehyun lets a spark out of one finger, pointing it at Doyoung’s energy field. The man shudders, his hand still connected to Doyoung’s shield, then collapses. Taeyong stares for a moment, takes a deep breath, then turns back to them. 

 

“Right. Johnny’s going to pull the plane close enough for us to get on. Jaehyun, Sicheng, Jungwoo and Doyoung will provide cover for the rest of us to get on, then I’ll get the rest of them on and we’ll go. Yuta, Donghyuck and Taeil will go on first with the managers. Mark, you and I will team up to get people on the plane as fast as possible. We’ll try and get the plane out of here as fast as possible and hopefully find a pilot and take off. Good?”

 

Jungwoo raises his hand. 

 

Taeyong sighs. “Yes?”

 

“What if we can’t find a pilot?”

 

Taeyong’s lips turn down. “Well, let’s hope we do.”

 

Mark finally manages to pull his eyes away from the chaos going on around them to see Yuta being held up by Donghyuck and Taeil, Sicheng standing as close to the edge of Doyoung’s energy field as he can. Mark doesn’t know what’s happened between them and he’s not sure he wants to. The managers are on their phones, talking rapidly, and Johnny is staring at the plane like it’s his own personal boulder and the mountain is the gate twenty feet away. Jaehyun flexes his fingers, and, it may be Mark’s imagination, but he thinks he sees his eyes light up blue. 

 

“Three, two, one,” Doyoung counts down.

 

He drops the field. Sicheng darts forward, followed closely by Jaehyun. They tear into the attackers, ice exploding from Sicheng’s fists and lightning sprouting from Jaehyun’s fingers and finding its targets with scary accuracy. Jungwoo stays close to Doyoung but reaches out for the people coming towards them. With a yank of his fist they go down, looking dazed and confused. Doyoung creates a barrier between the rest of them and the attackers. 

 

Taeyong looks at Johnny. 

 

Johnny growls, planting his feet and reaching out with both arms. “Get ready.”

 

The plane screeches forward, wheels shuddering and bouncing unevenly as they’re forced to roll. Johnny continues to pull, face twisted in concentration. Sicheng, Jaehyun, Jungwoo and Doyoung are still up front fighting the attackers, but start to draw back as the plane gets closer. Taeyong is practically bouncing on his feet, looking less than stellar with exhaustion written on his face but determined nonetheless. Yuta is held up entirely by Donghyuck and Taeil, his whole body shaking.

 

Mark feels useless. 

 

“Now,” Johnny shouts, and they burst into action. The door of the airplane pops open and Taeil and Donghyuck heave Yuta inside. Mark dives in after them, then perches at the door ready to drag the rest of them in with them. The managers are the next ones in, followed by Johnny who Taeyong speeds over before starting off to get the rest. 

 

Johnny immediately darts to the front, flicking switches and glancing at his phone for reference. (They’re about to fly a plane without a pilot. They’re gonna die). Taeyong all but throws Jaehyun inside, the younger of which quickly jumps into action alongside Johnny. Sicheng is quick to follow and hops over an overturned cart in the aisle to follow the first three’s previous path. Doyoung is next and is, for some reason, hissing and clawing at Taeyong’s arm as he’s deposited and the elder disappears again. Mark quickly sees the source of his anguish. 

 

Jungwoo is in the middle of the brawl but no one is moving. His eyes are closed but his limbs are trembling, hands spread at his sides. Taeyong pauses beside Jungwoo, whispering something and the younger shakes his head. With a twist of his wrist most of the insurgents drop to the ground, eyes rolling into the backs of their heads. Jungwoo lets out a cry and Mark has half a mind to run out and grab him himself, but Taeyong is quicker. Without a moment to spare, he grabs Jungwoo around the middle and reappears on the ground beside Mark.

 

“Go,” Mark shouts, yanking the aircraft door closed. The plane shutters backwards and a purple glow appears outside the aircraft that Mark knows to be Doyoung’s energy field. Jungwoo doesn’t respond when Mark goes to get him up and Taeyong groans, shakily sitting up. Mark does his best to haul the pair of them into seats, strapping them in and leaving them in Taeil and Donghyuck’s care. 

 

Doyoung stands in the middle of the aisle, arms stretched to either side in an effort to maintain the field. The airplane lurches and Mark stabilizes the pair of them. Thinking quickly, he tugs on the seatbelts on either side of Doyoung and does his best to secure him, tying them around the older’s waist. Doyoung’s lips quick but he says nothing, concentrated on the task before him.

 

With that Mark runs back up to the cockpit. Jaehyun’s taken over looking at the instruction manual now, muttering as his fingers dart over the dashboard, fingers sparking as he attempts to bring the plane to life. There’s sweat at Johnny’s temple as he manually forces the wheels to move, dragging them out towards the runway. 

 

When Mark looks back, it’s to see some of their assailants jumping out the window and running after them, fireballs in their wake and daggers that bounce off the hull of the airplane and Doyoung’s energy field. They’re not going to be able to find a pilot before they take off.

 

“Give me that,” Mark tells Jaehyun, snatching the phone and flicking through it. Jaehyun focuses his attention on the controls and Mark tries to keep his panic at bay as he flicks through the guide. 

 

“Headset, headset,” he mutters, finding the one tucked away in a corner. Mark tugs it on and it buzzes to life.

 

“Charter 227, this is Flight Control-“

 

“This is Mark Lee,” Mark quickly says. “The pilot is not onboard and we’re attempting to take off to avoid a massive conflict.”

 

“What-kid, do not take off, what the _hell_ -“

 

“We’re already at the runway and the path is clear, but unless we can figure out how to turn this plane on we’re going to be manually flying it to Seoul, Korea with my friends Electricity and Metal Traits. Please help us.”

 

“I’m not a pilot, kid, and there’s no way you can just- _fly_ a plane without any training and two Traits, you’re going to crash and die, please just get to safety-“

 

The entire plane shakes and Doyoung’s yell echoes about the cabin. 

 

“They shot at us,” Jaehyun hisses. Johnny grunts, turning the plane so that they’re facing the runway. 

 

“Oh my god-ok, kid, get in the chair.”

 

“What,” Mark squeaks. “Uh, I’m not flying this, I-“

 

“From what I gather, you’re the plane currently being targeted by like 60 people, and your friends are gonna be the juice to make this baby run, so yeah, unless someone gets up there, you’re flying the plane. _Get in the chair_.”

 

Mark gets in the chair.

 

“Right, so I’m not a pilot myself, but there’s a few basics things. Put your feet on the pedal, but don’t press down on it, yeah? Not until you’re taking off. Nice, ok, see that red knob to your right?”

 

Mark locates it and gives an affirmative. 

 

“Ok, so that’s the fuel. Once your friend shocks the plane to life, because I have no idea where the on switch is, you’re going to slowly press it in and advance the throttle forward just as slowly, yeah? The throttle is the lever to your left, you find it?”

 

Mark hums. 

 

“A little faster please,” Johnny grunts. 

 

“Ok, tell your friend to hit it. If he’s got good enough control, he should be able to sense the flow of electricity and help control the plane, but I need you to do the manual part.”

 

With a nod, Jaehyun spreads his fingers across the dashboard and lets loose. The plane sparks to life, the lights flickering on.

 

“I’m going to die,” Mark says flatly. “We’re going to crash and die.”

 

“That plane is worth millions, so unless you got the spare change you better not,” the flight control guy tells him. “Ok so the closest airport is down north approximately 100 miles. If you get there, they’ll be able to get a real pilot onboard since there’s apparently a riot happening right now, but-“

 

“We don’t have time for that, my friends are injured,” Mark interrupts even though that solution sounds better than flying over an entire ocean. 

 

“I’m about to cry,” the flight control tells him. “Great, ok, so you got a compass looking thing-“

 

“We need to go,” Jaehyun grits.

 

“Fine! Ok, kid, you know what you gotta do, heaven bless you, I’ll let, well, all the other airlines know what’s happening. If you see a plane in your path, _steer around it_. God be with you.”

 

They’re about to fly a plane. _They’re about to fly a plane_. Mark looks at Johnny and Jaehyun. 

 

“Let’s go,” Johnny says.

 

It’s not smooth. Everything is jerky and Mark’s fairly sure he’s missed pressing about half the buttons but Jaehyun and Johnny make up for it, forcing the plane to run. They speed down the runway, and for a scary moment, the plane shakes.

 

Then they’re in the air and flying and Mark has trouble keeping his hands steady. The ground is really far away and he’s steering a real life plane. 

 

They’re going to die.

 

Jaehyun laughs in disbelief, hands still plastered to the dashboard. “Oh my god. _Oh my god_.”

 

“Stay focused,” Johnny says, but his eyes are extremely wide. 

 

The shield around the plane slowly flickers away as they get far enough away from their pursuers. There’s muttering and a few yells but Mark doesn’t have time to look away. He steers the plane, his phone propped up and open to a compass app. His phone says they’re supposed to be at about 10,000 feet so Mark pulls the yolk back until they’re at about the right height. Johnny manually moves the wings as necessary, helps Mark turn and keep them steady. Jaehyun seems to be almost communicating with the plane, sparks running between his fingers and the controls. 

 

How are they not dead yet?

 

The managers come by, checking on them and looking seconds away from a panic attack because _they’re flying a plane_. (The reason they’re not flying is simple - one of the managers has an arm in a sling while the others eyes flutter shut every few seconds. As much as he doesn’t trust himself, Mark knows he’s in better condition than the pair of them). When Mark chances a quick glance, he sees Donghyuck meditating in the corner, eyebrows scrunched. He doesn’t move, eyes closed, practically frozen in place. 

 

“We need all the luck we can get,” Johnny murmurs when he notices Mark’s gaze. 

 

Mark’s fingers start spasming before long. Taeil is probably keeping their friends alive in the back since he hasn’t popped by yet, but Sicheng slides in and pushes Mark out of the seat with a frown. “I’ve got it.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“They’ll tell me how to steer,” Sicheng says, confidence in his voice that’s lacked in his posture. Mark abruptly remembers the fight he and Yuta seemed to be having. 

 

“Ok,” Mark tells him and heads to the back after running his hand through Donghyuck’s hair. 

 

The manager helps Mark stumble to the back where the other manager and Taeil are looking after Yuta, Jungwoo, and Taeyong. Doyoung looks to be passed out in the seat in front of them so Mark takes the aisle next to him, his eyes falling shut the second he sits down. 

 

They’re flying an aircraft. They nearly died. Mark doesn’t remember anything. They’re probably gonna die.

 

Mark still manages to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this realistic in any way, shape or form? No, but it was fun to write.
> 
> Also, can I just say, Moonwalk helped me pass my classes. The last like two months were terrible, but I'm alive again and bringing you new content. Look forward to the next like month and then be prepared not to see me for another four months lol.
> 
> Fun Fact: I looked up how to fly a plane and spent a good hour reading about the different controls on an airplane and still don't understand it. So don't trust anything I wrote. It was not accurate, like, at all. 
> 
> I love ya'll, see you hopefully in a few weeks!

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Johnny's heart stops for a second. 
> 
> I would like to dedicate this series to Superhuman, which has yet to come out but I already have memorized. I'd also like to ask Spotify why they got my hopes up with that Superhuman playlist only to crush it when I realized it wasn't the actual album. Also, been working on this fic for over a month and I still have like another 6000 words before it's actually done. 
> 
> Also, finals. Yay. TBH probs not gonna work on this until they're over, but I wanted to get this out there for y'all to enjoy/motivate yourselves for the upcoming struggle. Good luck everyone. 
> 
> Finally, thanks yikeno for the Mark/127 greeting suggestion. I took it and ran with it. I hope I did it justice :}
> 
> Lemme know what you thought/what you'd like to see <3


End file.
